My Chemical Romance
by Queen of Kaos
Summary: Prequel to Angel Dust.  You know how Dave and Courtney's relationship ends.  You know the role that Randy played in the tragedy.  You know exactly where John fit into the saga.  Or do you?  You saw how it ended.  Now see how it began.  OC,Dave,Randy,John
1. Expect the unexpected

**My Chemical Romance**

**A/N: Those of you who are signed up on our Myspace page have known this was coming. I've been teasing it for months, and I think I'm finally ready to start with the prequel to my most beloved story to date. I hope that it lives up to the original material. And if you haven't already - jump on over to the Myspace page and check out the graphic AJ made for the story. **

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"Courtney Elizabeth Lane!"

Though her mother was normally soft-spoken and proper, Courtney knew the tone of voice that said Alissa Lane was fed up with having to make the same request multiple times. Looking up from her spot at the kitchen table, she smiled impishly. "Mom, I'm almost done," she pleaded like a child.

At twenty-one, she felt like she should no longer have to beg for the privilege to use an out-of-the-way space for her homework, but with company coming, Alissa was more on edge than normal.

Turning on her heel, the mother stared at the daughter with a raised eyebrow. "That's what you said an hour ago," she reminded, her hands firmly planted on the trim waist of her tailored business suit. "Come on. The press will be here any minute. You have to get this mess cleaned up."

Glancing to her left and right, Courtney nodded with a sigh as she heard the front doorbell echoing through the spacious home. "Alright. I'm going."

Growing up in the house of a Senator had never really bothered Courtney. She was used to people coming and going all the time, staff members treating her home as if it was their own. She was used to members of the press dropping by for interviews, and she knew how to present herself. But now in her third year at Columbia, she was finding that her father's schedule didn't always gel with her own. And she wasn't sure she loved being kicked out of her own kitchen when she had a paper due in three days.

Pushing her wire-framed spectacles further up her nose, Courtney tightened her blonde ponytail and shoved the sleeves her over-sized sweatshirt up to her elbows. Papers and books littered the entire surface of the table, and she knew for certain it would take her more than one trip to get it all back up to her bedroom. Kicking her tennis shoes off under the table, hoping to dull the noise of her footsteps on the stairs, she loaded her arms and stepped cautiously toward the back exit.

"It's just right through here," the voice of her father's Chief of Staff, Michael Cole, sounded from just outside the kitchen.

She barely managed to turn the corner before whoever was entering the kitchen saw her. Racing up the stairs, Courtney dumped her books on her bed and took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. She would have to wait until she could no longer hear voices in the kitchen to make another trip. There was no way her mother would approve of anyone outside the family and staff seeing her dressed in sweats without make up.

She crept to the top of the stairs and waited until she was sure it was safe before skipping back down to the kitchen. Stopping to pick up a pen that she had dropped on the first trip, she didn't notice the man who had just left the small, downstairs bathroom.

Colliding with what felt like a brick wall, Courtney stopped and blushed, her eyes traveling over his gray pants and up the lavender dress shirt that hid beneath his suit jacket. How she had missed him, she couldn't be sure. The man had to be six and a half feet tall, and seemed to be as wide as the hallway itself.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered when she finally met the intensity of his brown eyes.

Shaking his head, Dave Batista reached out a hand to steady the young woman on the stairs. She was really just a child, so much smaller than he had imagined from her pictures in the press kit. "It was my fault," he assured her, her voice smooth and confident in the silence of the room. "Pardon me, Ms. Lane."

The deep blush that crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks was the cutest thing he had ever seen, he was sure. The way her dark eyes flitted to the floor and then back up, before darting to his left made him want to hug her. There was something so sweet, so vulnerable about this young woman. "Um, I need to," she pointed over her shoulder, her small hands lost in the sleeves of her school sweatshirt. "Sorry."

Dave watched from his place as Courtney rushed back to the table and began loading up another armful of books and papers. Not known for shyness with women, Dave found himself paralyzed in his place as he watched the grace with which she moved. She was nothing more than a college co-ed, but something about her posture, and her presence, screamed to him. Something made him want to know more about the Senator's daughter than he had ever wanted to know about the Senator himself.

"Do you need some help?" he finally asked with a smirk, moving toward her.

The booming timber of his voice, though low and controlled, shocked Courtney. With an oomph, she dropped the books she had worked so hard to balance, and blushed again deeply. God, why did she have to be such a klutz in front of such a good-looking man? "I'm fine," she whispered, fully-focused on task of cleaning up.

Dave stood beside the table, intrigued. "I'm Dave Batista, by the way," he finally said, shooting her a thousand-watt smile when she met his eye once more. "I'm the producer for your father's interview today."

Courtney nodded. "They said it would be someone new," she recalled, placing her books on the table once again as she focused her attention. She was trained to deal with men in all positions of power – hell, she'd had dinner with the president and never fumbled as much as she was doing now. She was Courtney Lane. She could control herself around whoever this producer was. "I was expecting someone different."

Dave crossed his arms and considered her, watching the way she struggled to control herself. He didn't like to brag, but she wasn't the first woman to lose her cool in his presence. She wouldn't be the last, either. "What were you expecting?"

Nodding over Dave's shoulder, she gestured toward her father's assistant. "Someone more like Cole here."

Dave tossed a look at the man behind him and then laughed. "I'm sorry to disappoint you," he winked.

Caught in the intensity of his stare, Courtney just shook her head, the nerves dissipating in the kind look he was shooting in her direction. "I'm not disappointed," she said, her voice low and sultry, as though belonging to someone else.

Without so much as a rapid movement, Dave flicked his wrist in her direction, a small business card between his first and middle fingers. "I'd be interested in your take on your father's re-election campaign, Ms. Lane," he continued to smile, knowing that everyone in the room was well-aware he wasn't offering his number to talk politics. "We should do lunch sometime."

When she reached for the card, he flipped his hand down, brushing his fingers over the palm of her hand. There was no way that Cole would have seen the gesture, and she realized that he'd meant it that way. Fighting the shiver that was crawling up her spine, she took the card and withdrew her hand, grabbing her books and hugging them to her chest like a shield. "I think any questions you have about my father's campaign can be directed toward my father," she grinned coyly through lowered lashes, sad to see their flirtation end. But her father would be waiting for Mr. Batista, and she didn't want him to know that she was the cause of detaining the interview. "Thank you for the offer, though."

Dave nodded, impressed with the way she had handled herself. He'd seen women with much more age and experience throw themselves at his advances. This kid was going to give him a run for his money. "It's a standing offer, Ms. Lane. Call me any time."

She only nodded before disappearing up the stairs once again, barely closing the bedroom door before glancing at the card in her hand and doing a happy dance. He was, by far, the sexiest man who had ever taken the time to hit on her. And though she knew her father would shit bricks, Courtney couldn't wait until she saw him again.

In the kitchen, Michael Cole shook his head and motioned for Dave to follow him. "Oh, you are a brave man, Mr. Batista," he chuckled at the memory of what had just transpired.

"Why's that?" Dave asked as he followed the smaller man into the foyer.

Nodding up the stairway in the grand entrance, Michael shot a warning glance at the young producer. "Because anyone from the press who dares to fuck with Courtney is taking their life into their own hands."

But Dave only chuckled and rested his hands in his pockets. His only concern at the moment was seeing Courtney Lane out of that sweatshirt and sprawled out on his California King-sized bed. With a shake of his head, he patted Michael's shoulder. "Well the senator will have to come up with a better threat than that, Mr. Cole. Death doesn't scare me."


	2. A formal dinner meeting

**My Chemical Romance**

Though she spent her weekends at her parents' home in Baltimore, Maryland, Courtney couldn't deny the appeal of her small dorm room on the campus of Columbia University in New York City. It allowed her a brief reprieve from the prying eyes of everyone who had known her since elementary school, and who treated her like their own child. And it was quieter some days than the Lane estate had ever been.

Huddled over her laptop, Courtney smiled at the e-mail that had just dropped into her inbox. She hadn't spoken to him in so long. What could he possibly have to say? And why was she hesitating to read it?

Before she could click the icon, the door burst open and a giggling pair of young woman piled into the room. Her roommate, Brooke, was a tiny brunette with a smile that could end any solid relationship on a dime. Brooke's best friend, Kelly, was petite and blonde, like Courtney, but with even more vulnerability. Which was saying something, as Courtney was considered about as virginal as they came.

"What are you doing?" Brooke asked, her laughter halting as she looked over her roommate with much distress. "Didn't you get my text message?"

Courtney shook her head and cast her eyes to her backpack on the bed. "I haven't even taken my phone out of my bag today," she admitted with a shrug. "Too much homework."

Brooke groaned and grabbed Courtney's arm, dragging her from the bed. "Jesus, woman," she huffed, pulling Courtney to the bed and pushing her back again. "Kel, you do something about the hair. I'll handle the dress."

Courtney watched as Brooke scoured through her closet, wincing when Kelly ripped the ponytail from her hair and began to brush it vigorously. Yanking herself away from the torture, Courtney stared at her friends. "What the hell is going on?"

Without so much as a glance over her shoulder, Brooke began throwing dresses in a variety of colors onto the bed. "You have a date tonight."

"I have a what?" Courtney asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"A date," Brooke repeated, moving to the pile on the bed for a final selection. "Your friend? The producer? He called while you were in classes this morning. He wanted to take you to dinner, so I told him you would be glad to go." With another shrug, she turned to Kelly and held up a dress. "Does this say 'daughter of a senator' or 'virgin'?"

Kelly just shook her head before Courtney snatched the dress from Brooke. "I am NOT a virgin," she insisted. "And I'm not going to dinner with Dave Batista," she added, moving to her closet to begin rehanging the clothing.

Brooke sank to the bed, one simple black dress in her hands. "Fuck, I'll go for you, then. He sounded sexy as hell on the phone." Turning to Kelly, she sighed. "His voice was all low and gravelly. It was all I could do not to touch myself while he was asking for Court."

The girls giggled again and Courtney shook her head, feeling a need to clear the cobwebs. "Are you fucking kidding me? You told him that I would go to dinner with him?" It had been a week since she'd met Dave in her father's kitchen, and while she had been tempted to call on a few occasions, common sense had always kept her hand from dialing the phone. Apparently, Brooke didn't possess the same trait. "I can't have dinner with him. My father will kill me."

With a roll of her eyes, Brooke stood and examined the knee-length dress in her hands. It was conservative, but still sexy enough to say that Courtney was available for whatever Dave needed her to be. "It's just dinner. You haven't had a date in a year, Courtney. It's getting ridiculous."

But Courtney shook her head and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I haven't had a date, but that doesn't mean I don't have a life. I'm busy, Brooke. I don't have time to fuck around with dating – and my dad would shit a brick if he found out that I went to dinner with Dave Batista."

She loved her friends to death, but sometimes she had to remind them that there was more to life than men and parties. Sometimes she had to remind them that her future was wrapped up in focusing on something more than the frivolous bull shit they thought was important. Even if she really didn't want to.

Sure, there were plenty of times she would have rather been out with Brooke and Kelly, but if she didn't pull better than perfect grades in all of her classes, her father would make her move home. And she couldn't bare the thought of losing the last shred of her freedom.

"You're right," Brooke nodded, biting her lip and then moving to her own side of the room. "God forbid you should have any fun, Courtney. It might ruin your Senate bid someday."

With a huff, Kelly moved back to the closet and yanked a gray wrap dress from the rack. "Fuck that. You deserve to have some fun. And I'll be damned if you're gonna sit in your room and miss it. For fuck's sake, Courtney, it's one dinner. It's not like we're asking you to drop out of school," the little blonde insisted. She wasn't much of a talker, but when Kelly let loose, people ducked and covered.

With a sigh of resignation, Courtney took the dress that her friend offered and stripped her tee shirt over her head. She would wear the dress, and she would meet Dave Batista for dinner. But she wouldn't like it.

* * *

The restaurant was elegant and expensive. Surrounded by business men and their trophy dates, Courtney felt slightly out of place. But as was her custom, she squared her shoulders and put on the 'Lane' air that she had been taught at an early age. She was political royalty. She had no reason to slouch around like a terrified college student. 

Following the hostess to a secluded table in the back of the restaurant, she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping. He was nothing if not seductive.

Dressed in a pinstriped, perfectly tailored suit, Dave sipped from a water goblet and perused the menu, his pearly teeth showing when Courtney made her entrance. Standing from his seat, he waved the hostess off and held Courtney's chair. "Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Lane," he nodded when she was seated.

Licking her lips, Courtney crossed her legs beneath the table and leaned forward on an elbow. "It's only fair to tell you, Mr. Batista, that I'm here under protest, and that I have no interest in sharing any of my father's campaign secrets." A perfectly manicured eyebrow shot up as a challenge, and Courtney waited for him to grow as flabbergasted as other reporters always did when trying to speak with her.

But Dave wasn't other reporters. Meeting her raised eyebrow with one of his own, he leaned back in his seat and took another drink of his water. "And you should know, Ms. Lane, that I didn't ask you here to talk about your father."

Though her face flushed, Dave was impressed to see that the young woman's composure held fast. She was dignified and poised, a combination he found nothing short of irresistible. Dave had more than his fair share of women on tap, one that he was thinking of calling if this dinner didn't go his way, but damn if he could remember her name with Courtney's brown eyes staring him down in that deliciously challenging way.

"You do know that my father would have your head if I knew I was here with you right now, don't you?" Courtney asked, chuckling to herself as she reached for her water glass. Playing hard-to-get was pretty easy for her. She was hard to get. Hard to get close to. Hard to get figured out. Hard to get enough of, or so she'd been told. Her ex told her that she used her father as a shield, never getting close enough to let her heart be broken because she always threw up the Lane family shield. But she could see it in Dave's eyes – staying away was in her best interest.

Dave only shook his head and looked around their private dining room. He had asked for it purposely. And if she needed to leave before him, just so nobody saw, he was okay with that, too. He could personally give a fuck less if Sean Lane knew he was at dinner with the Senator's precious baby girl, but he suspected, from the few pieces of information he'd managed to dig up on Courtney, that she would be far more comfortable with quiet seclusion. And further distractions afforded him a better chance to get to know her anyway.

"Your father may frighten you, Ms. Lane, but he doesn't scare me. Few things do."

She caught her full, lower lip between her teeth and allowed her shoulders to relax only slightly. It was a game of posturing, feeling one another out, deciphering his intentions. If he thought that he was going to get dirt on a politician, he was sadly mistaken. If he thought he was going to walk her home and stay the night, he was even moreso. "Oh, there's fear in all of us, Mr. Batista," she stated easily, swishing the water in her glass as the waiter delivered a bottle of champagne. "It keeps us sane, keeps us from going over the edge. Fear is an ingrown boundary."

The depth with which she spoke, and the ease with which her words glided over her lips, hypnotized Dave. He didn't know what it was about this little girl exactly, but he knew that he wouldn't be getting her out of his head any time soon. "Boundaries are for the weak," he responded, smiling broadly when she rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Nothing more than self-induced barriers against the fullest of life experiences."

Courtney clicked her tongue and accepted the champagne flute that she was offered with a polite nod to the waiter. When they were alone again, she sat back in her chair, her eyes never leaving her companion. "So life is nothing more than a series of experiences, right? Live each to the fullest, for it might be your last?"

As she leaned back, Dave mimicked her pose, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "I'm not even sure some people realize when they've died. They lead aimless, miserable lives and by the time they leave, tripping out of this life and into the next is probably just a mild stumbling block. I want to live my life so hard, to experience everything so fully, that when I die, I know it."

She wasn't sure if it was the champagne, or the passion with which he spoke, but Courtney found herself smiling genuinely at his words. Something about them seemed confounded, but the tone of his voice and the glimmer in his eye made it hard to distinguish just what the problem was. "That is quite the theory, Mr. Batista," she nodded.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Dave waved a hand and took another drink of his water. "Call me Dave, please," he requested. "This isn't a formal dinner, Ms. Lane."

She smirked at his statement and took another drink before that eyebrow shot up once more. "What? Are you waiting for me to ask the same?" When he shook his head and chuckled, she couldn't fight the Cheshire grin that broke across her face. "Damn. I kinda liked the 'Ms. Lane' thing, but I guess you can call me Courtney," she finally conceded.

Reaching across the table, he captured her fragile hand in his own. "Courtney," he spoke as though trying it on for the first time. In reality, he'd said her name numerous times in the past week, but never while wearing as many clothes as he was at the table. "Thank you for agreeing to dinner with me."

Though she wanted to hate her roommates for making her come, Courtney couldn't deny that the smell of his cologne, and the butterflies that his presence seemed to invoke, were worth a night out. She could step away from her homework for one night, for him. "Thank you for inviting me, Dave" she responded over the top of her glass. But one night was all he got.


	3. Midnight Meeting

**My Chemical Romance**

"That was unbelievable," her husky voice groaned in his ear as Dave rolled off of the young woman and groped for his watch on the nightstand.

Victoria was great, as a colleague. She was tough, intelligent, and determined. She was, in reality, the female version of Dave. And she wasn't a slouch in the bedroom, either. She definitely knew a trick or two that turned Dave's world on it's ear.

Rolling out of the bed, he nodded and searched the ground for his pants. "You, too," he complimented in a rush, pulling his pants over his muscular thighs as he reached for his shirt.

Victoria watched from the bed, her head shaking. "You know it's never gonna work, right?" she asked finally, hoisting herself into a seated position as she watched her lover move about the room. "Sean Lane's is never going to let you date his little girl." Reaching into the bedside table, she set about rolling a joint before she continued. "Tell ya the truth, I don't know why'd you want to. Kid's as innocent as they come. Nobody's ever been able to say a bad thing about her."

When he was dressed, Dave looked over the naked woman on the bed and thought about how to best tell her to butt the hell out of his life. Instead of speaking, however, he sank to the bed and leaned against the headboard beside her, stealing the joint from her fingers and taking a long drag for himself.

"Why would you even bring her up?" he asked, though he knew that he'd mentioned his dinner with the senator's daughter one too many times since arriving at Victoria's.

Flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, Victoria narrowed her eyes. "I'm the best damned investigative reporter in this city, Dave. Even if you hadn't talked about her all night, I can see it in your eyes. You're sprung on a little girl that barely gave you a kiss on the cheek last night." Rolling her eyes, she puffed and passed before raking her fingers through her long locks once again. "It's not like you to be sprung on someone who wears panties to dinner.

Dave just rolled his eyes and held the calming smoke in his lungs for a moment before blowing it out in a thick wave. "Maybe that's why I like her. She's a challenge."

As he secured his watch on his wrist and tossed an empty condom wrapper from the floor into the trash beside her bed, Victoria huffed and laid her cigarette to the side. "Well, you know my number when she gets bored," she sighed, snuggling back into her covers. "Can you lock the door when you go?"

Doing as he was asked, Dave made his way to his car with one hand in his pocket, securely wrapped around his cell phone. He could call her – she had given him permission. But that would look desparate. It hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours since he had walked her to her car, kissed her on the cheek, and watched her drive away. Calling now was make him look pathetic.

By the time he had eased the car out of the apartment complex parking lot, he was hitting the speed dial he had assigned to Courtney's phone. She made him do things other woman could only dream of convincing him to do, but Dave needed to hear her sulty, gravelly voice again. He needed to know she hadn't forgotten him already.

"Courtney Lane," she answered distractedly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, Courtney, it's Dave," he said, trying to keep the hopeful tone from his own voice.

Nearly dropping the phone, Courtney raked her hand through her disheveled hand and bit her lip, guiltily studying the face on her computer screen. Did he know that she was googling him? That she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him, about his ulterior motives, since their date the night before? No, he couldn't possibly know that. Could he?

"Courtney?" Dave asked again, her silence setting off a nervous feeling he wasn't used to. He could still hear her breathing, a soft, purring sound, but she hadn't responded. Did she not want him calling anymore? Hadn't she nodded last night when he promised to phone her soon? Was it too soon? Did he seem like a stalker?

Turning from the screen, Courtney closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm here," she whispered, casting her eyes toward the bed where Brooke was sleeping. It was three thirty in the morning. This man had a job. Why the hell was he calling her? "What's up?"

The fact that she hadn't hung up on him, or chewed him out for calling so late, relaxed Dave as he leaned one elbow in the window of his sports car and studied the oncoming headlights. "I was thinking about you," he said easily, honestly. He knew that he was putting himself out there in a way that he wasn't used to doing, at least not this early in the game. But she was Courtney. Something told him she was worth it.

Though she wanted to call his bull shit, Courtney couldn't stop the little blush that crept into her cheeks. Thankfully, he couldn't see her. Even more thankfully, Brooke seemed to be sleeping through the call, so she didn't have to deal with that distraction, either. She could maintain her decorum with this guy – he was just a guy. "And what were you thinking about?" she asked coyly, knowing full-well that she was flirting with a very dangerous man.

Every article that she had been able to find about Dave Batista was like another red flag. Top of his class at Georgetown. Background in Investigative Journalism. Staunch Democrat, with a strong dislike for anything politically conservative. And beyond the profession, he had quite a groupie following. He was a rock star in his world – with a reputation that she doubted he could have earned. He was older than she was, but still too young to be the talk of tabloids.

Of course, he was sexy as hell. What woman wouldn't want to spend a night with a tall, dark, and handsome face like his? What woman wouldn't want to lay down with her legs around his waist and wake up with his arms around hers? Not that many of the message board postings she read alluded to waking up with him. Apparently, he liked to fuck and run. Which was another thing that made Courtney's radar beep like crazy.

By the time she tuned into conversation again, he was chuckling at whatever he'd just said. She knew enough of sitting through boring dinners to chuckle along with him as she began loading her back pack for the next day's classes. Whatever he was talking about couldn't be that interesting – it was much more fun to talk to him when she could look into his beautiful, soulful eyes. Of course, the sex and cigar sound of his voice wasn't so shabby.

Hearing her laugh along with him, no matter how quiet, stirred something in Dave's gut. "So what are you wearing?" he asked with a sly grin. He was well-aware that she might not answer, but he would never know if he didn't try.

"Shorts and a tank top," she answered immediately, her voice distracted. "Why?"

"Gotta know how to picture you in my head," he explained easily, the flip in his belly catching him off-guard again. "If you don't tell me, then I just have to imagine you're naked."

"What?!?" The volume of her voice jumped and Courtney immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. It wasn't that she wasn't used to flirting, or talking a little dirty to ex-boyfriends over the phone – but she barely knew this man. And he was nothing if not completely inappropriate.

It took everything in Dave not to burst out laughing. Damn, it was fun to frustrate her, to shock her. The fact that something as simple as the word 'naked' could frustrate her pleased him to no end. Oh, the things he could teach this little one. "How do you feel about Denny's?"

Slipping out of her room when Brooke tossed and squirmed in the bed, Courtney pulled the door shut and leaned against the wall in the hallway. "What are you talking about?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. The only thing she knew was how she felt about sleep, and it was beginning to call to her. She had an early class, and had been ready to head off to bed before he called.

Dave hooked a left and eased his car to a stop in the parking lot. "Let's go get some fries and talk," he suggested. Though he had to be at the office in just a few hours, he couldn't go home and sleep when he was so close to seeing her. He had to spend just a few more hours with her, had to know if his gut was right about Courtney Lane. "I'm in the parking lot in front of your dorm."

"You're what?" Darting her eyes from the right to the left, Courtney shook her head in disbelief. "You can't be. I never told you where I live."

His laugh was easy and full. "Not difficult information to find, Court. Come on. I'm hungry. Let's go." There was no way in hell he was going home now. Not with her just a few feet away.

Even as she told herself it was a horrible idea, she found herself reaching for the handle of her room again. "I'm in my pajamas," she reminded him. "Give me twenty minutes to get ready."

But Dave wasn't waiting another twenty minutes. He didn't care if she was in a moo moo and a big pair of fuzzy slippers. "I'll give you two, and then I'm coming up there to find you," he teased, hoping he didn't sound like a complete stalker.

With a roll of her eyes, Courtney grabbed her keys and slipped into a pair of flip flops. He wanted to pry her away from her bed at 3:30 in the morning, fine. He was getting the Courtney who didn't give a fuck what she looked like, the girl who'd run her fingers through her hair a thousand times through the day, and the one who wore green boxer shorts with little pink bunnies on them to bed. He was getting her as she was: comfortable, sleepy, and a touch too grouchy for his own good.

Dave searched through the cd's in his car for something that didn't make him look like a total tool. Most of his music was classical, or classic rock. He didn't feel like an old man, but he certainly didn't listen to the music she and her friends enjoyed, either. He had just popped a disc into the player when the door opened and she slid into the seat.

Turning his body in the seat, he smiled brightly at the sight before him. There was nothing particularly sexy about the look – narrowed, irritated eyes watching him through a haze, little shorts and a pink tank top that hugged her chest, but did nothing for the rest of her figure, and a mess of hair that seemed ready for a nap. "You look beautiful," he smirked, leaning across the seat to press a kiss to the side of her head.

"Fuck you," Courtney shot back, her eyes trained on the road as a smile fought it's way across her lips. She couldn't help it. He smelled like heaven and looked like a god. There was no way she was going to be able to pretend to be mad for much longer. This was, by far, the craziest thing she had ever done. And she kind of liked it. Not that she was willing to tell him that.

Dave only gunned the engine and pulled out on the city street, his hand resting casually against her thigh, as though it didn't occur to him that she might not want it there. "Thanks for meeting me," he finally said after an awkward moment of silence.

Though Courtney wasn't sure why his hand was sending electrical currents up her bare leg, the feeling of his thumb moving in small circles against the inside of her thigh felt too good to pull away. Instead, she just leaned back and rolled her head to the side, studying the side of his masculine face. "You didn't leave me much choice, did you?" When he shrugged and moved his hand higher, under the hem of her shorts, she glanced down. "What are you doing?"

Dave met her eye and lowered his hand again, further from the destination it had been creeping toward. "Sorry."

But Courtney covered his hand, feeling a compulsion to keep his skin against hers. Though her mind, and her words, defied it, she liked the warmth of his touch. She wasn't ready to let him take it away just yet. "I meant what are you doing here, with me? I mean, you can find all the information I could give you through other sources. I don't have that much inside dirt on my father's campaign."

When Dave had parked his car in the Denny's parking lot, he turned in his seat, hand turning in hers until their fingers were woven together. He wasn't known for being very open, especially with women he was trying to bed. Normally, he just flashed a smile and a few of his best lines, and they were putty in his hands. But Courtney's dark eyes begged for honesty, demanded it, even.

Puffing out his cheeks, he let out a sigh and stared straight into her naïve, waiting eyes. "I wanna know you." When she opened her mouth, he shook his head. "Not the you that I can meet in a bunch of boring-ass articles. Not the senator's daughter. I wanna know the Courtney that goes to Denny's in the middle of the night in her bunny shorts."

She couldn't fight the blush that crept into her cheeks as she lowered her eyes to her shorts and then back to his face. Squaring her shoulders, she licked her lips and smiled softly. "Only if you promise to tell me about the Dave that picks a college girl up at her dorm and takes her to Denny's in her bunny shorts in the middle of the night."

He nodded and leaned across the counsole again, his lips brushing softly against hers. "Deal."


	4. Still Not Getting Any

**My Chemical Romance**

****

Of all the ways to be awakened from the hottest of hot dreams, being smacked in the face with a pillow was not Courtney's favorite. Bolting upright, she shot a death glare at Brooke and twisted her lips to keep from saying something hateful. "What the fuck?" she started

Brooke grabbed the small cell phone from Courtney's pillow and tossed it onto her friend's chest. "Answer your goddamn phone, bitch," she sneered, clumsily stumbling back to her own bed and pulling the covers over her head.

Flopping back on the bed, Courtney raised the phone with great effort, noticing that she had four missed calls. Her dream of Dave's body rubbing against hers had been so vivid, so intoxicating, that she hadn't heard him calling her, once every five minutes for the last twenty. With a groan, she dialed the most recent number and waited for his voice to coax her into the day.

For the last two weeks, it had been the same. Since their midnight dinner at Denny's, and the subsequent make out session in his car, he had called her on his way to work every morning. It didn't seem to matter to Dave whether she had a class at nine, or at one, he always called at seven. She could pretend that she hated it, that being awakened was an annoyance, but the sound of his voice was beginning to affect her in ways she couldn't explain. And in ways that she didn't want to deny.

"Well, look who finally decided to pick up her phone," Dave's voice was pleasant, but held a twinge of frustration. He understood that she liked to sleep in, especially since he didn't usually get her home until two or three in the morning, but he had things to do. And he wasn't so used to women ignoring his calls. Truthfully, he wasn't used to having to call them in the first place.

Courtney rolled her eyes and rolled onto her back, arching from the mattress as she fought to keep her eyes open. "I will never understand how you are so damn alert at the fucking ass crack of dawn," she growled.

As far as Dave was concerned, she didn't need to understand that. Instead of answering her curiosity, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head, his elbow resting in the lowered window of his car as he navigated the DC streets. "Ya know, Ms. Lane," he started, smiling at the huff she emitted at the formal name, "I would expect a young woman with your upbringing to refrain from using such offensive language."

With a soft groan, Courtney rolled onto her side and smiled at the sunlight pouring through her window. "It's the company I've been keeping lately," she accused. "You rub elbows with dirty, old men, you're bound to pick up a thing or two, I guess."

If Dave was honest, the reason he called her so early in the morning was only to hear that soft moan that she emitted when trying to get comfortable against her mattress. Sometimes he thought he would explode if he had to wait another second to hear those whimpers and moans in person. Sometimes he thought that he could give a fuck less if they were just sleeping, he just wanted to hear her sigh and roll around on the bed. Other times, he knew it was more than that. Courtney was an innocent, and if the language was any indication, he would truly enjoy corrupting every delicious inch of her.

"You have no idea how dirty I can be," he chuckled to himself, as he eased his car into the parking lot of the television studio and killed the engine. "In my defense, though, it's not my fault that my girl is fuckin' sexy as all hell."

Courtney felt her cheeks warm as she snuggled further into her covers and thought about that smoldering expression in his eyes. He was dangerous – she had known that from the moment she met him – but she couldn't help feeling safe with him when he took her out. Something in the back of her mind kept telling her not to get too close – he always referred to her as 'the woman I'm seeing' when they ran into his friends in bars or restaurants. He wasn't the kind of guy who committed. To anything other than his career and his reputation for NOT committing. "Your girl?"

It wasn't often that Dave Batista found himself speechless. Especially not in the presence of a woman. But he hadn't actually meant for Courtney to pick up on that portion of his statement. And he really hadn't thought about it before he said it. In his mind, she was his girl. She was the only one he was seeing, and the only one he was interested in. And nobody else was going to have a chance to get close to her, if he had anything to say about it. She was his. "That a problem for you?" He wasn't sure where the attitude came from as he opened the glove compartment and pulled a small box from it.

Nibbling her lip, Courtney thought about how quickly his demeanor would sometimes change. There were times when it was obvious that he was teasing her, that he was in a playful mood. And sometimes it was crystal clear that he was completely serious about something he was discussing. But it was the in between times – the ones when she couldn't read him – that Courtney found herself unsure of how to react. "I've always thought of myself as my own woman," she said with a smile. If there was one thing she was learning from Dave, it was that her smile had a powerful effect. Not that she wanted to use it to manipulate him, but it was hard not to sometimes. "But I guess being your girl isn't so bad."

"Oh, there are perks," Dave assured her, staring at the small vial in his hand. "Like dinner reservations at Zengo tonight." He heard her slight gasp and inwardly patted himself on the back. There was nothing Courtney loved more than ethnic foods, and Zengo's Mexican-Asian fusion was the one place she admitted she had always wanted to try, but had never had the chance. "What do you say? I'll pick you up at seven thirty."

She wanted to say "no." She had been neglecting homework to hang out with him nightly, and sleeping through early classes because they didn't get home until late. She was supposed to visit her parents over the weekend, heading home right after her last class of the day. Brooke would never tire of teasing her about the fact that she hadn't let 'that fine-ass man' knock her down yet. There were so many reasons NOT to go. "I'll be ready," she heard herself saying, as though her own logic was of no consequence.

Dave replaced the lid to the container in his hand and sniffled gently, dropping the box back into the glove box. Blinking his eyes twice, he nodded. "Great. Will you wear the black dress?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in playful flirtation. When she groaned, he nearly lost his mind. "Come on, baby. You know how much I love the way it fits you."

She rolled her eyes and wished that he would stop. The more he talked about how much he liked her appearance, the more bold he got in telling her how much he would like to see more of it. The more he talked about the way her body looked in her clothes, the more he talked about what he'd like to do to that body. And the more he talked, the hotter Courtney got. She still blushed when she thought about a few nights prior, when he had been forced to work late and couldn't see her. How he had managed to talk her into an orgasm, she didn't know – she had heard of phone sex – she had just never done it. He made her want to do all sorts of things she had never done.

"Courtney," Dave said, his voice low and even. Sure, he was supposed to be in his office at seven, but he didn't have a meeting until nine. If it took him that long to hear her scream his name, like she had the other night, he would take it. "Baby, wear the black dress for me," he said again. "I love that slit on the side. I wanna touch your thigh under the table, wanna feel how warm your skin is in front of all those people."

Squirming on her bed, Courtney opened one eye and glanced over at Brooke, who's back was turned, the covers still over her head. "I've gotta get a shower and get to class," she whispered back to Dave, hoping that he would stop before she woke her roommate and had a whole new humiliation to live down. "What time is your interview this afternoon?"

Dave's shoulders sagged in disappointment. Why was she always pulling back? He could kiss her in the car, run his hands all over her body, but when he tried to feel his way up her skirt, she flinched. Over the last few days, she had started to loosen up, allowing him to kiss down her neck and over her chest, but it was as if she was guarding her virtue with a vengeance. Part of him admired that, but the other part, the bigger part, just wanted to rip her clothes off and take her.

When he fell silent, Courtney knew that he was frustrated. In her most soothing tone, she said what she could to make it better. "Brooke is asleep, baby," she whined, her low voice sultry and smooth. "I can't scream your name the way you want me to with her here." With a deep breath, she listened for any sign that he was even still there, but Dave said nothing. "Tell ya what. You work hard today, and show me a good time tonight? And you'll hear me scream." Again, he said nothing. "Tonight's the night, baby," she added, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Night for what?" Dave asked, his breathing shallow as he contemplated the possibilities. Was she really saying what he thought she was saying? Was she finally going to let him?

Blushing, Courtney pushed forward. Though she had been keeping up the air of a dignified princess since she met him, she couldn't deny that the horny college co-ed in her was starting to demand some play time. The more she thought about Dave's hands on her, the way he had gently sucked on her skin the night before, the more she knew it was time. It was time to experience him in a way that she had shared with only two other men. "Anything you want," she finally said, her voice controlled though her face was growing redder by the second.

"Fuck, Courtney," Dave hissed through clenched teeth, wishing he were anywhere but in his car. He couldn't get caught jerking off in the parking lot, but it was the only thing he wanted to do at the moment. "You can't tell me shit like that," he added, his fists clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

She giggled softly and rolled onto her back once again. "Oh, so you can tell me all the wicked things you wanna do to me, but I can't tell you that I'm gonna let you do them?" She hadn't been around the block as many times as he did – she didn't know the rules. Maybe she wasn't supposed to be so forward, but he certainly hadn't held anything back with her.

Shaking his head, Dave forced himself to get out of the car. If he stayed inside another second, he would have to go all out, and he knew it was better if he didn't. "Sounds like a perfect night, baby," he said, slamming the door of his car a little harder than he intended. "I need to get going, but I will see you tonight, okay?"

Nibbling on her bottom lip again, Courtney nodded and rolled her head to the view outside of the window. "Your interview is at two, right?" When Dave mumbled his acknowledgement, she smiled. "Good luck," she added.

Once again, he felt himself smiling at the sweet sound of her well-wishes. She could go from sexy vixen to sweet girlfriend in two seconds, and he wasn't sure she was even aware that she was doing it. If she was aware, he was even more impressed. "Thanks. I'll see you tonight." With that, he hung up the phone and did his best to focus on the one thing he was actually supposed to be focused on these days – his work.

* * *

Sitting through meetings was hell for a man like Dave Batista. It wasn't that he had a short attention span – he was just a man of action. He hated sitting around, plotting things, when he could have been out, doing them. He hated waiting to come up with a game plan when charging in and figuring it out as he went had always worked best for him. 

Stifling a yawn, he stood and rolled his shoulders, shaking hands with a few of the men in the office before noticing that someone was waiting for him. When he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed Victoria watching him from her seat, a strand of her dark hair twisted around her finger. "What's up with you?" she asked finally, her eyebrow raised. "I left you three messages last week and you never returned my call."

Though he would never admit it for fear of sounding whipped, Dave had yet to check his phone for anything other than Courtney's number in the last couple of weeks. As far as he was concerned, sleeping with anyone else would only jeopardize his chances of getting close to the young Lane, and he wasn't about to blow it – not when he was so close to having what he wanted. Dave Batista was nothing if not determined. "Been busy," he said flippantly, noting that she was following him out of the conference room and toward his office.

"With her?" Leaning in the doorway, Victoria watched Dave move and shook her head. "David," she shook her head. "You've proven you have balls," she conceded and lowered herself to the chair across his desk. "I'm a little worried you might be lackin' in the brains department."

As he lowered himself to the high-backed leather office chair, Dave popped his neck again and fought to get the image of Courtney on his bed out of his head. Tonight was the night. She said that it was. And she wasn't the kind of woman who just said shit to make him feel better. She never said anything she didn't absolutely mean, and he loved that about her. He didn't have to wonder where he stood with her, because she told him. She told him when she wasn't comfortable, and she told him when she was. If she said that he was going to get laid tonight, he was getting laid.

Leaning forward, Victoria tapped the desktop. "Look, man," she started, her voice serious, almost grim, "I don't care if the bitch's pussy is lined with fucking gold, she's not worth it," she explained as clearly as she could. "I don't like Sean Lane, but it's pretty damn hard to deny he loves his little girl. Almost as much as he hates you," she added with a smirk.

Dave opened his mouth to retort, but his cell phone vibrated against his hip. He didn't give a flying fuck if he had pissed Sean Lane off with questions he didn't want to answer in their interview. He didn't care if the senator hated him for the rest of his natural life. The answers he gave during that interview were bull shit, and Dave wasn't about to build a reputation on letting people slide by with pat, rehearsed responses. Political offices were fucked up enough, as far as he was concerned. People deserved to know the truth.

Opening the text message he had received, he couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips. _Just wanted to say Good Luck on your interview. Can't wait to see you later. Court. _It was the same thing for two weeks – she always remembered when he had something important going on, and she always sent a text message thirty minutes before to let him know that she was thinking about it, to wish him luck. Damn, a guy could easily fall for a girl that thoughtful.

Quickly working his fingers over the buttons, he responded with a simple – _Thanks, baby. Can't wait to see you. In and out of that black dress_. Turning his attention back to Victoria, he shook his head. "Sean Lane doesn't scare me. You know that."

With a stark sincerity she rarely showed in his presence, Victoria stood and smoothed her hands over her tailored dress pants. "Maybe he should." When Dave rolled his eyes, she rested her hands in her pockets and shrugged. "You're sprung on a hot chick, Dave. I get that. But don't forget how hard you worked to get here. Is she really worth risking everything if her daddy decides he wants to destroy you?"

He glanced down at the new message Courtney sent. _Can't wait for you to take it off me. _With a smile he couldn't control if he had wanted to, he nodded. "I've got great instincts, Tia," he reminded her, using the nickname he always reserved for their bedroom time. "They're tellin' me to go with this one, so I'm followin'."

She let out a sigh of resignation and moved toward the door. "In the field, you're right," she conceded, meeting his gaze head on. "But when it comes to pussy, Dave, you've only ever been led by one thing." Opening the door, she managed a small grin. "And we both know it ain't your instincts."

He watched her leave and then turned back to his computer, noting that he had managed to amass a few e-mails during his meeting. It didn't matter what Victoria said. As far as he was concerned, she was just jealous he hadn't been available for a booty call lately. She would get over it.

His eyes drifted over the last of his messages and his fist crashed against his desk. "Motherfucker!" he shouted before grabbing his phone.

It rang three times before her husky, sex and champagne voice answered sweetly. "Took you long enough to call me back," she teased. He usually responded after one text message. Unless he was in a meeting, but even then she knew he excused himself to take her calls.

Anger surged through Dave, but he tried to contain it so as not to scare her. There were many facets of Dave's personality that his new interest had never seen, and he was hoping she wouldn't have to for awhile. "Fuckin' Middle East bull shit," was all he could manage to spit out before his fist came down against his desk again.

"What?" Courtney's brow furrowed as she stopped on the sidewalk between buildings and stared at her phone. "Dave, what's wrong?"

He looked at the intern hovering in his doorway and shooed him away. "I hate to do this, Courtney, but our motherfucking president has decided to send us to war. Asshole." He had never claimed to be a Republican, or to have any affection for them. The fact that president was, in his professional opinion, a lying sack of shit was bad enough. But the fact that he was fucking up Dave's potential to finally get laid was something else all together. "Look, I have a feeling I'm gonna be here pretty late. If you wanna take Brooke to Zengo tonight, I'll just let them know that you're using the reservation under my name," he sighed, forcing himself to be generous in lieu of really blowing up.

Courtney bit her lip and fought the disappointment in her gut. She had been psyching herself up all day for the chance to finally see if Dave lived up to the dreams she'd been having about him. Now he couldn't make it, because of work. He'd cancelled on her once before, and she did understand it. It's not like he could change the way the world worked. Or the fact that he had to be there to cover whatever news happened. "Nah," she shook her head and cleared her throat. "It's fine. We'll just do it some other time."

Dave leaned back in his chair and thought about the crestfallen sound of her voice. "I'm really sorry," he managed to say, though all he really wanted was to throw something.

Courtney giggled and began to formulate a plan. So what if he couldn't take her to Zengo. He still had to eat at some point, right? "Dave, don't worry about it. This is bound to happen. You have a fast-paced, high-stress career. It's going to demand your time once in a while. I can live with that." Sighing, she lowered herself to a bench nearby and dug into her back pack. "I've seen my dad back out on my mom enough times to know that politics fucks with your personal life."

The comparison of himself to her father was more than Dave wanted to think about at the moment. "Fuck that," he spat, hearing her soft gasp through the phone. "We are not your mom and dad. This is the last time. I promise."

"Don't," she warned, dropping her palm pilot back into her bag. "Don't make me stupid promises we both know you can't keep. Just let it go, okay? I understand, and you know I don't say shit I don't mean," she reminded. "The next time you have a minute to take me to dinner, I'll wear that little black dress, and I'll let you feel me up under that table, okay?"

Dave felt the anger draining from his body in the flirtation of her words. Leaning back in his chair, he impatiently tapped his ink pen against the desk and thought about how great her breasts looked in that dress. He thought about the way her thigh peeked out at him, daring him to look without touching. "Ya know what sucks the most about this whole thing?" he asked.

She stood from the bench and began to walk toward her class, convinced he wasn't going to hit anyone. "That thousands of young men are probably going to die needlessly?" she asked.

Well, sure. That was a disadvantage. But Dave wasn't that deep most of the time. "I'm not gonna get fuckin' laid tonight," he whined, throwing the pen at the intern, who had made his way back into the doorway again.

Courtney couldn't fight the laughter that bubbled from her throat. "Yeah, well neither am I. And I was really lookin' forward to it," she pouted. "But that's okay. It'll wait."

As they disconnected the call, Dave looked at his computer screen again – the pictures from the company's website filling his head. God damn Republicans. God Damn president. God damn vendettas. He hated terrorists as much as the next guy, but did shit have to go down when things were finally starting to click into place between he and Courtney?

Without a second though, Dave reached into his desk drawer and withdrew a prescription pill bottle. His mother often told him she was worried that he was abusing them, but he didn't fuckin' care. They helped curb his temper – kept him from getting violent when he really just wanted to strangle someone. They were currently saving that damned intern's pathetic life. And they were a lot safer than some of the shit he used to relax.


	5. Working Late

**My Chemical Romance**

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long, guys. I've moved into a new apartment and no longer have internet at home. It's a bummer, but I work with what I have. And since I now have a job at the library, I have access to the internet - just not twenty-four seven. So anyway - this chapter is kind of long, and I hope it is worth the wait.**

* * *

Her last class of the day was scheduled to end at 7:15, but the professor wouldn't stop talking until 7:45. She hadn't expected Dave to still be in the office – for some reason, she thought he would take his files home and look over them in the comfort of his own home. But when she had driven past the studio, she had noticed his car in the parking lot, and she had seen him hunched over his computer through the corner office window. Her original intention had been to charm the door man into letting her leave a note on Dave's desk – something he would find in the morning that would make him smile. Instead, she drove around the corner to his favorite Chinese restaurant and ordered enough food to put them both down for the count.

She had expected him to be happy to see her, and he was. But she had expected that he would stop working long enough to at least eat with her, if not drop everything to take her back to his place. When he continued working while he ate, Courtney found herself profoundly disappointed. It wasn't that she thought she was more important than the war, but she wanted to be. At least at that moment.

After she had ended their phone call in the morning, she had spent the next hour wondering what the hell she was thinking. She couldn't just promise the man he was going to get laid. Who did that? But the more she thought about it, the more the idea lingered in her mind throughout the day, the more she wanted it. She wanted to feel him, to let him feel her. She wanted to know how different he would be than the others she had experienced. And then he called to say that he couldn't make it.

As sweet as she could be at times, Courtney was also determined. And when she got an idea in her head, she wasn't going to give up just because a war had started. Nothing was going to stop her from getting what she wanted. And she wanted Dave Batista.

Sitting at his desk, his tie and jacket discarded onto the couch beside his desk, Dave was only keenly aware that Courtney had stood from her place across from him. He didn't want to be rude – he was truly touched that she had brought him dinner. It was thoughtful, and it was sweet, and it was completely Courtney. But he was busy. And the sooner he got done with his research, the sooner he could resume his normal schedule of trying to get into her panties.

His eyes barely moved when she hopped onto the edge of his desk and crossed her legs toward him. Though she continued to eat, she said nothing. When he turned to examine a note he had jotted on the paper at her side, he couldn't help noticing the way her creamy thigh peaked out from the corner of the little skirt she was wearing. Those legs were going to be the death of him someday. "Courtney," he started, turning back to his work. She couldn't distract him. He needed to get finished.

But Courtney wasn't moving. Not until he at least acknowledged that she was there, and that she had put herself out for him. "What?" she asked coyly, helping herself to another chopstick-full of noodles. When he met her eyes, she sucked a stray noodle between her lips, as though puckering just for him, and kicked her shoes onto the floor. "Am I distracting you?"

Removing his hand from the computer, Dave slide it over her knee and up her thigh, tilting his face for a kiss. When she granted it, he smiled and pulled away. "You're always a distraction," he winked, turning his eyes back to the screen. "Thanks for the dinner, though. I appreciate it."

He could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end each time he moved to type something. If he didn't know better, he would think that she had positioned herself that way on purpose, just so that he would have to feel her each time he moved his arm. But that would imply that she was some sort of seductress. And his Courtney wasn't seductive. Sensual and sexy as all hell, yes. But she didn't do it on purpose.

"You're welcome," she whispered softly, setting her take-out container at her side on the desk. "But you know I didn't come here for dinner, right?"

The admission shocked him, though he wasn't sure it should. A forward advance by a woman was nothing to be surprised about in Dave's case. He was used to it – usually, he counted on it. He didn't like to put himself out there, but when a woman did, he always found it incredibly sexy. Meeting her eyes, he smirked. "What did you come here for?"

Shoving every nerve she had about what she was about to do to the back of her head, Courtney ran a bare toe over Dave's side. She said nothing, only caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Though she tried to remain composed, she couldn't fight the blush that was creeping into her cheeks. This wasn't her. This was some sex vixen that he was used to dating. This was someone other than her.

He watched her grapple with expressing her desires, and it was more than Dave could handle. It wasn't ideal. He wanted to see her against his sheets the first time, but he was tired of fighting his libido. She had obviously intended to do something more than watch him work, and no matter how busy he was, he wasn't going to disappoint her. Hell, if he could get his work done AND get laid, he wasn't going to complain.

Without a second thought, he pushed all of the papers off of his desk, along with the pencil sharpener, stapler, and organizer. His inbox hit the floor with a thud, but he never heard it as he stood from his chair. He pulled her to the edge of her desk, watching as her straight, pencil skirt slid up to her waist, and pushed her knees apart to stand between them.

Courtney's arms went around his neck on instinct, pulling his face to hers as he kissed her as though trying to brand her lips. She gasped when his tongue thrust into her mouth with a force. Without realizing it, her legs wrapped around his thighs, clasping at her ankles to cling to him as his hands ripped her sweater from the waistband of her skirt and tore it over her head.

Dave didn't know what to touch first. He wasn't sure how gentle he should be, how much experience she actually had. She assured him that she wasn't a virgin, but also reminded him time-after-time that she didn't have much experience. At the moment, he was having trouble remembering anything she had told him. Hell, he was having trouble remembering his own name as he took in the sight of her large breasts encased in a lacy, black bra. "God damn," he breathed, grabbing them both in his hands.

Courtney's back arched into his touch, her breath catching in her throat when he slid his hand around her back and unhooked her bra with no effort whatsoever. "Dave," she gasped, gripping his shoulders as he attacked her nipples with his tongue. "What if someone," she started.

But Dave was beyond caring if someone walked in, drove by, or hauled in video equipment. He had a topless goddess on his desk and it was more than he could have possibly hoped for. He moved one finger to her lips, motioning for her to stop worrying, and stop talking, but found himself jumping to attention when she sucked the digit between her lips.

If Dave was surprised at her bold gesture, Courtney was twice as shocked. She didn't know where it had come from. But his skin against her lips seemed to demand being sucked. So she sucked it. She would suck anything he wanted her to. His body was addictive and she couldn't stop touching him, her nails raking over his back as he pushed her onto the desk and ripped his lips from her chest, his breathing ragged.

Shaking his head, Dave rested his hands on the desk at her sides and smirked at the way her eyes were squeezed shut. "Look at me," he commanded, winking when she did as she was told. "You wanna do this?" he asked, already unbuttoning his dress shirt as he struggled to return his breathing to normal.

For the first time, Courtney thought it might not be a good idea. She hoisted herself to a seated position and cast her eyes out the window. "What if someone sees us?" she asked, her lip catching between her teeth again.

Dave leaned over her body and dropped a soft kiss on her lips. "Don't move," he said, tossing his shirt to the floor before lowering his blinds and moving quickly to the door to lock it.

When he returned, Courtney's eyes were following his every move, the point of her tongue slowly traveling the length of her upper lip. "You should never wear a shirt again," she smiled softly when he lowered his head to hers again.

As Dave felt her surrendering to him, he lowered himself to his chair and pulled up to the edge of the desk, his fingers itching in the anticipation of finally touching her. The lace panties that covered her most intimate parts matched the bra she had been wearing, and he wanted nothing more than to rip them off. But for some reason, he worried that might frighten her. Instead, he tapped the side of her hip. "Can you take your skirt off for me?"

Courtney sat up on the desk and unzipped the skirt, raising her hips enough to slide it over her rounded backside and kick it to the floor. If she thought about the situation, she would bolt. There was no reason that the Republican senator's daughter should have been laid out on Dave Batista's desk in nothing but a pair of Victoria's Secret panties. There was no reason she should have let it go this far.

But she wanted it. More than Courtney had ever wanted anything in her life, she wanted Dave to touch her, to make her writhe in abject pleasure, to make her surrender. She wanted to do the same with him, to make him feel her, to claim him as her own. Not that this act garunteed any of that, she knew, but she had a feeling the moment would be enough as soon as he lowered his face to kiss her through the panties.

Her hips arched toward his face and Dave smiled to himself as he lifted her legs and rested them on his shoulders, his chin resting on the desk below her. With his eyes raised, he whispered her name and then forced himself to breathe when she rose up on her elbows to gaze down at him. "These are cute," he ran a finger over her panties again, grinning like a little boy when she shuddered under his touch, "but they gotta go."

For some reason, her inhibitions faded with that one look. It was though he was telling her that this was going to be the best night of her life, and she had no right to question it. She wanted it to be. And it was only going to work if she let herself go. For one night, she could trust him. She had to. "So take 'em off," she challenged.

It was almost visible, the transformation that washed over Courtney. Dave thought it was the sexiest thing he had ever seen – the way she talked herself into being more bold with him. If she trusted him enough to let her guard down, he could give her a night she would never forget. And if he got his way, plenty of more nights to remember after this.

With barely any effort, he yanked the panties down her legs and tossed them to the floor, his finger extending toward her. Just as she had done before, Courtney took his finger into her mouth and swirled her tongue over it, her eyes fixated on him as she leaned back and studied him. Dave's eyes were clouding, and even if she was experienced, she knew that she had him. She could do anything in that moment, and he wouldn't have noticed. It was freeing, knowing that he was so taken with her.

The moment that his finger slipped into her and his tongue met her swollen nub, Dave knew he was gone. He was higher than he had ever been in his life, and breathing her in threatened to stop his heart beat. She was the most delicious thing he'd ever laid lips on, and he didn't care if he didn't get another thing done all night. He was going to take his time with her. He was going to savor her. He was going to make her his.

She tried to remain propped up on her elbows. She wanted to watch him, but Courtney knew that it was a losing battle. As soon as he took her clit between his lips, she collapsed against the desk and grinded her hips into his face. "Fuck, Dave," she called out his name as though they were the only two people on the planet, completely oblivious to the fact that they probably weren't even the only two in the building.

The sound of his name rolling over her lips in ecstasy was more than he could handle. Dropping her legs at his sides, Dave stood and pulled her hand until she sat. "Come here," he said firmly, resting her shaking fingers on his belt buckle. "Take it off." She did as she was told, though her hand was trembling so badly, he thought she would never get the buckle to work. He watched as her fingers unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down, pushing the silken fabric to the floor. The boxer briefs that he wore were tented and he smiled when she turned innocent eyes to him. "Pull it out."

Courtney licked her lips and reached a hand into his briefs. It was hard and hot against her fingers. Not much bigger than her ex-boyfriends, but big enough to make a difference. "Shit," she hissed through her teeth as she used her free hand to push the waistband of his underwear over his hip. When the garment finally fell to the floor, she met his eyes again, his hardened shaft in both of her hands as she fondled him with curiosity. "I don't think it's my size. Might be too big," she teased him with a smirk.

He couldn't help the laughter that exploded from his chest as he reached into his desk drawer and offered her a condom between his index and middle fingers. "I think we can make it work," he winked as she rolled the latex over his tip and smoothed it back.

Courtney leaned back after making sure that he was protected, and rested on her hands. She watched carefully as Dave took her ankles in his hands and spread her legs before guiding himself into her tight opening. She had been wrong. He was a lot bigger. "Shit," she hissed, her eyes squeezing shut as she leaned back and covered her face with her hands. It would stop hurting eventually. If he could just wait for her to adjust, she would be okay.

Dave moved her legs until they clinched around his waist again and then took her hands from her face and leaned until they met his lips. "Look at me, Precious," he said, sucking the index fingers from both of her hands into his mouth. When she met his eyes and smiled around the digits and began to roll his hips.

Courtney stared in awe as this man sucked carefully on her fingers and then released her wrists and moved his hands back to her breasts, massaging them as he pistoned at a growing pace within her tightness. "God, Dave," she moaned, finding a rhythm that coordinated with his after a few moments of trying awkwardly to keep up. "More."

He guided on hand to the junction between their bodies, the other still attached to her nipple. "Help me," he breathed, resting her slickened finger over her own bud. It was all he could do to hold out. There was nothing he wanted more than to just give into the pleasure she was inspiring in him, but Dave knew that it couldn't end yet. Not until she was done. If he had a prayer of keeping her with him, he had to stay his own release until she found hers.

Courtney felt her body responding to every subtle movement that his made. She felt like she was floating, like she was somewhere above herself. Like she couldn't get back down if she tried. His name kept rolling over her lips, and she fought the urge to tell him it had never been like this before. She fought the urge to tell him that she loved him. She knew that she didn't. But she sure as hell loved what he was doing to her.

When her arms flew to her sides, grasping for something to hold on to, he knew that he had her. "Come on, Court," he grunted, his movements short and hard. "Come for me, Sweetheart." His thumb applied pressure to her nub as she squeezed her legs around his back as her body went rigid and she mumbled his name. Dave was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful.

She was only vaguely aware of his release as she stared at the ceiling and giggled at the twitching feeling between her thighs. She had orgasmed a few times in her life, but never like that. Never to the point that she couldn't feel her legs afterward. Never to the point that she could barely remember her own name. Rolling her head to the side, she ran her fingers through Dave's hair as he rested his head on her chest. "Mr. Batista, I do believe that might have been the best sex ever."

Risking a glance up, Dave knew that he was in trouble. "Might have been?" he asked with a smirk, feeling his strength returning, but having no desire to move. "Ms. Lane, let's be honest," he teased. "We both know you ain't never had it like that."

She wanted to protest, to put up a fight, but she couldn't. She wouldn't. She was beyond the point of no return, and she didn't care.

"Motherfucker, I am not playing," Courtney narrowed her eyes and rested her hands on her bare hips. "Give 'em back!"

Dave reclined slightly in his office chair and twirled her panties on his index finger. "You got somewhere to be, Princess?" he challenged, watching her expression cloud as he mocked her.

Rolling her eyes, Courtney slid her tweed skirt over her thin legs and zipped it quickly. "Ya know what, Lover?" she slurred the name sarcastically as she fought to clasp her bra while shoveling her hair from her face. "You want 'em so bad? Keep 'em. I've got plenty."

She wasn't sure why she was so frustrated with him all of the sudden. Maybe it was the way he left her laying on his desk while he spun in that stupid chair and went back to work. When she finally decided to get up, he had asked if she wanted to help him with research. All she really wanted to do was go home before her parents worried that she wasn't back yet. It was after nine at that point and she still had a three and a half hour drive from New York to her parents' home just outside of Baltimore.

But the idea of spending just a few more minutes with him appealed. When he had refused to let her get dressed, she found it endearing. And when she asked him to come look at something she had found in a magazine, it made pulling him onto the floor and riding him that much easier. But by then, it was nearly eleven, and she needed to get going. She had called her mother to tell her that researching a paper in the library had taken longer than she had expected, and that she was going to stay in her own room for the night and head back to Maryland after her class in the morning, but she still needed to get home.

Reaching over the desk to retrieve her shirt, she nearly growled when Dave grabbed her wrist. Though he felt her body shudder at the contact, her eyes remained stoic, completely unaffected. She wanted him to believe that she was pissed, and he almost bought it. With slight force, he pulled her down into his lap as another smirk tickled his lips. "You really wanna leave me here like this?"

Courtney groaned as she felt Dave's erection pressing against her back. "I have classes in the morning," she reminded him, her head resting on his shoulder as he turned to kiss her cheek and then corner of her lips. Even if she wanted to leave, she knew that she wouldn't. She couldn't.

Dave pulled her bra straps over her shoulders and down her arms, wrapping his hands around her breasts, massaging and kneading them until the nipples hardened into tight peaks. Stopping his kisses long enough to peer over her shoulder, he noticed that she was pulling her skirt up her thighs and gently rotating her hips back against him. As he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, she groaned and stood.

When he was fully sheathed inside of her, Courtney turned her head, capturing Dave's groans in her kiss. Her legs were spread over the arms of his leather chair and she gripped his thighs to maintain balance, their bodies rocking in unison as they breathed and moaned.

Dave had fucked a lot of women in his time, and he had enjoyed most of them. But Courtney was different than all of them. It wasn't just the fact that she was 21 to his 36. It wasn't just that she was barely beyond virginal. As he pressed gentle kisses to her spine as she bounced on his shaft, he knew that he loved her. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but there was something different about Courtney. Something about the way her heart shown through every aspect of every action.

It was because she answered his call every morning, and even though she complained, she always made him smile. It was because she remembered every major interview on his agenda, and always sent him a text message to wish him luck. It was because she brought him dinner when he had to work late and cancel their date. And it was because she easily controlled his body in a way that no other woman had ever been able to.

Courtney's released slammed over her with a vengeance and she stood quickly, dropping to her knees. Smiling up at him, she blushed and took his shaft in her hand. "I've never done this before," she whispered shyly, her tongue snaking out to touch his tip.

Dave gathered her hair in his hands and watched as his member disappeared between her lips. He had heard those words before, and he wasn't sure that he believed them. She had never given head before? She was a damn master. But as she coaxed his orgasm with her mouth, and then swallowed all that he had to offer, he understood. He'd spent all of their time together trying to claim her. Instead, she had done it for him. She was an amazing woman. One that he had no intention of losing.

Courtney fought the urge to scrunch her nose as she cleared her throat and stood from her knees, smoothing her skirt back over her thighs. "Can I have my panties now?" she asked with a smirk.

But Dave just shook his head and stuffed them into his desk drawer. "I'll take 'em home and wash 'em. You can wear them when you spend the night on Sunday."

Courtney bit her lip and considered the offer. Usually, she loved spending weekends with her parents. On any other normal weekend, she probably would have just stayed with them on Sunday night, too, seeing as she didn't have classes until one on Mondays. For the first time since leaving for college, though, Courtney didn't even want to leave town on Friday. "Deal," she nodded, bending over to kiss him. "But I really have to get home. And you have to get finished. Cause this thing," she motioned to the mess of papers and office supplies on the floor, "ain't happenin' again. So you make sure your calendar is cleared Sunday night."

He nodded and pursed his lips as she smoothed her hair after sliding her sweater back over her head. "What do you want for dinner when you get back, Princess?" he asked as she shouldered her purse and slid her shoes back onto her feet.

Courtney leaned over the chair and grasped his earlobe between her teeth. "Just you."


	6. Who's Little Girl?

**My Chemical Romance**

Her reputation around Washington was that a good, little Daddy's girl. Courtney had never minded that title, seeing as she fit it to a tee. In her mind, for as long as she could remember, there was nothing worse than disappointing her father. Her mother's opinion of her was a close second. She stayed away from parties, studied like a grad student, and wore only what her father approved, even into her college years. While most of her friends used their stint at Columbia to rebel against all they had been forbidden to do in high school, Courtney continued her string of "good girl" behavior. Because that's what her daddy wanted.

And then she met Dave, and her focus shifted. Suddenly, and seemingly overnight, she found herself hiding things from her parents in order to make her boyfriend happy. She had always hated those girls, the ones who changed to make a man happy, but it didn't so much as occur to her that she was becoming one of them.

After two months of dating Dave, she found her closet divided. One side was filled with sweaters and pencil skirts and tailored pant suits. That was the "parentals" side of the closet. The other contained mini-skirts, dresses with plunging necklines, tiny tank tops, and skin-conforming jeans that Dave had encouraged her to buy for his pleasure. That was her "Lover" side of the closet. It never occurred her that her own closet had no "Courtney" section, nothing set apart for her own enjoyment. Because for Courtney Lane, there was no such thing. There was pleasing others. As long as the most important man in her life was happy, she was happy.

She liked the clothes that Dave chose for her, and liked even more the fact that he seemed so intent on ripping them off, sometimes before they were even alone. The clothing made her feel like the seductive woman she had always seen in movies, and sitting down the row from her in her classes. The look in Dave's eyes when he saw her enter a room made her feel more desireable than she could ever hope to. It was that look that convinced her that Daddy's wishes weren't so important.

Dave explained to her that fathers want their little girls to be just that forever. That they get some sort of satisfaction out of thinking that their sweet angels will be pigtailed princesses in pinafores forever. They are overbearing and overprotective, because they know that they will lose their precious babies the moment they become women and realize that nother man can offer them things that a father would never dream of for his child. As with most things Dave said, she felt he was twisting the truth for his own pleasure, but she'd be damned if she could find the presence of mind to argue. He was hypnotically alluring, and she had no desire to be anything but his.

She had established a routine that she was sure her father wouldn't approve of, had he known anything about it. Monday through Friday, she went to classes, and if Dave wasn't working too late, she stayed at his place. If he was working, she would visit him in his office, and then sleep through her early-morning classes to re-energize herself for their daily lunch dates. On Friday afternoon, she would drive to Baltimore and stay with her parents, and then drive home as soon as she could get away on Sunday night to see her boyfriend again.

She found that, over time, it was easier to lie to them. Finals were coming up, and she could easily convince them that she needed to beat traffic back to New York so she could get some sleep and be ready for an early class on Mondy morning.

For the most part, Courtney found her double life easy to maintain. Her parents were in Baltimore, and nobody outside of her roommates knew anything about Dave. They kept their relationship quiet because of the mutual contacts Dave held with her father, and it was like a fairyland bubble. On the outside, she was still Courtney Lane, stand-out daughter. Behind closed doors, she was becoming Courtney Lane, wanton sex goddess.

She knew that the two would conflict at some point, but during the first couple months of her budding relationship, she didn't care. She was enjoying her time with Dave, and her father wasn't going to spoil it. Her mother wasn't going to make continused suggestions about calling her ex, about what a nice boy he was. Nobody was going to burst her happy bubble.

But the time for hiding was quickly coming to a close, and Courtney knew that she had to talk to Dave about her summer plans. It was the last summer before her senior year in college, and she had been promised an internship with her father's campaign for as long as she could remember. Two months ago, she would have been anxiously awaiting the end of the school year. Now she was dreading it.

Almost as much as she was dreading the discussion she knew she had to have. Tonight. If Dave ever got home. He was already two hours late, and Courtney was more irritated than scared.

She had purposely arrived at his apartment, stripped out of her school clothes, and quickly showered. She slipped into his favorite blue dress shirt and then blew her hair dry, tossling it with her fingers the way she knew he liked it best. She could just break the news that she was heading back to Baltimore for the summer, and then slowly strip the shirt off, offering him the one thing she knew he couldn't resist – sex.

If she was honest, it was becoming the one thing she couldn't resist, as well. Though she was far less experienced than he was, he was teaching her new things all the time, and she was learning to appreciate why some people seemed so addicted to the act of, well, fucking.

By the time Dave slid his key into the lock, he knew that she was going to pissed. If there was one thing Courtney hated, it was to be kept waiting. She always said she understood, but she pouted like a child when he showed up an hour or more late. It didn't matter that he explained his job was demanding, and that he would never spend more than a second away from her if he didn't have to. She said it was disrespectful to not even call and let her know he wasn't going to be on time.

Maybe it was disrespectful. What the hell did Dave know about being a boyfriend? He'd never really been one before – at least, not a good one. And he'd never been with anyone who would call him on it. Sometimes he thought Courtney was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Sometimes he thought he would strangle her if she didn't learn to be a little more understanding. And sometimes he just wanted to cut a line on a mirror and shove her head onto it, telling her to lighten up and have a little bit of fun.

When she heard the front door open, Courtney fought the urge to run to him. But it was a losing battle. Before she heard his briefcase hit the floor, as soon as he called her name, she was out of the bedroom, moving toward him down the long hallway from his bedroom to the foyer.

He was't sure he would ever get used to the sight of his beautiful, blond girlfriend awaiting his arrival after work. He wasn't sure there would ever be a time when his breath didn't catch in his throat at the sight of her in his dress shirt, blushing and looking like a vixen all at once. "Hey, Princess," he smiled, taking one step toward her.

Courtney couldn't help smiling. There was no way NOT to smile when he came in, loosening his silk tie and pulling his linen shirt from the waistband of his tailored pants. "Hey, Lover," she grinned, leaping into his arms.

Dave clasped his hands under her round bottom and claimed her lips, sucking them between his and savoring the cherry flavor of the lip glass she always wore after a shower. They were, quite simply, the softest lips he had ever felt in his life. When her fingernails scraped the base of his neck at the exact moment her tongue slid against his, he thought he would lose his mind.

As he carried her toward the bedroom, Courtney fought to disengage from the intoxicating kiss. "Wait. I need to talk to you," she gasped as his lips found her neck.

"It can wait," Dave growled, his erection aching for her when he realized she wasn't even wearing panties under that shirt. He threw her onto the bed and ripped his shirt open, paying no mind to flying buttons that scattered around the room.

Crawling into a seat position, Courtney shook her head and lowered her eyes. "This is important, Dave," she whispered, afraid to meet his eye, afraid of the disappointment that wwould accompany her news.

A million horrible scenarios raced through his mind as Dave watched the emotions playing on his girlfriend's face. She obviously thought whatever she had to tell him would upset him. He didn't want to be upset. He wanted to be ridden. "What?" he asked, frustration imminent as he rested his hands on his hips.

If Dave had one glaring character flaw, as far as Courtney could tell, it was his impatience with anything that didn't lend to him getting his immediate way. He would grow huffy if she had a late class when he wanted dinner. He would get pissy if she needed to study when he wanted sex. He'd even hung up on her once for not granting him phone sex while she was at her parents' house.

Though she hated the thought of upsetting him, she despised the way he spoke to her like an errant child at times. "I'm leaving town on Thursday," she spat, her arms crossed and her knees pulled to her chest as she leaned against the headboard.

"What?" Dave shook his head, unsure of where that came from, or why it was so important that it would interrupt his quest for pussy. "So?"

"So I'm going to be spending the summer in Baltimore," she explained, waiting for the hurt or disappointment.

But Dave wasn't hurt or disappointed. He wasn't distraught or saddened. He was angry. "No, you're not," he stated, his lips pursed as if trained to hold the angry thoughts inside his head.

Courtney couldn't help the chuckle as she shook her head. "Yes, I am," she insisted. "I have to. I'll be working with my father's re-election campaign as a summer intern. I'll be gone until the seventeenth of August." When he shook his head again, Courtney relaxed her left leg, making sure that he an unobstructed view of what he wanted most just seconds earlier. "It's only a few months, Lover. I still have a phone, and we can get together when you come to Washington for interviews."

Though he was sure she thought her statement was already set in stone, Dave wasn't about to lose his girlfriend for three months. Especially not to her father. Her father, whom Dave hated. "This is bull shit," he growled, turning from the room and slamming the door.

She had seen him angry before, but Courtney had never felt it was directed at her. She had always been able to use the "I would change it if I could," excuse to calm him down, but this time, she actually COULD change the situation. She might not be able to stop a war, but she could grow a spine and stand up to her father. That's what Dave wanted her to do, but Courtney knew that she wouldn't. They both knew it.

By the time he heard her soft footsteps in the hallway, Dave's mind was already in a fog from the joint he was sucking back. If he didn't calm himself, she was going to see the side of him that was less-than-attractive. And as much as he wished he could just push her away, he wasn't ready to let Courtney go.

The smell of smoke greeted her, but it wasn't like the cigarette scent that always clung to her clothes and hair after she and Dave watched a game at his favorite sports bar. It was sweeter, but also more potent. She had never been around marijuana, but Courtney recognized the joint between his thumb and forefinger instantly as she moved to the chair next to his couch. "What are you doing?" she asked stupidly.

Dave's heavily-lidded eyes met hers and he shrugged. "Unwinding," he answered simply before turning his eyes back to the blank television screen. He couldn't look at the disappointment in her eyes. He didn't care if she didn't approve. This was for her own good, but he kenw that she wouldn't understand that.

"Dave, I'm sorry," Courtney whispered weakly, as though she had somehow driven him to lighting up in the living room.

But he only shook his head. He didn't smoke cheap shit, and three-quarters of his way through the joint, he was beyond caring. He was beyond stress, resting peacefully in his happy place as he relaxed against the inviting couch cushions. "I'll come to Baltimore," he said simply. "We'll make it work, Princess." Meeting her eyes again, he shot her a winning smile and patted the seat next to him. "Not seeing you for three months will kill me."

The smile that tweaked Courtney's lips was unavoidable as she stood from the chair and crept onto the couch beside him. "My dad might kill you if you try," she warned as her hand found the back of his neck, in the place that made him purr like a kitten.

"Your dad doesn't scare me," he reiterated the mantra he had spewed since their first date. "I'll fuck you in front of him. I don't care."

Courtney watched as the joint between his fingers grew smaller, the scent seeping into her nostrils as she watched him surrendering to its influence. The laughter that spilled from her was unexpected, but in light of his statement, it felt justified. "That would go over well."

But Dave just smirked and offered her the joint. Courtney Lane had never ingested an illegal substance, she had told him so herself. She had sipped wine at a family wedding once, but waited until she was legal to even step foot in a bar. There was no way she was going to accept his offering, but he was nothing if not polite.

"I will," he insisted, nodding toward the joint when she hesitated. "Bend you over the desk at campaign headquarters," he chuckled as her thin hand extended toward the cigarette. "Ask him some interview questions while I pull you skirt up to your waist."

Courtney shook her head as she accepted the joint and held it just as he had. She had no intention of puffing on it, but held it as he continued to tell her how he would ask her father's stance on immigration while he smacked her bare ass and held her hair in his fist.

Dave watched her eyes twinkle with amusement at his words. He would do everything he was describing and more if it kept that grin firmly affixed to her full lips. "Think he'd mind if you called me 'daddy' when you cum?" Dave held his breath as Courtney rolled her eyes and shook her head.

It was as if someone else was raising the joint to her lips and breathing in the smooth, thick smoke. She had watched Dave long enough to know that she was supposed to hold it for a second, to savor the headiness that the drug caused, before blowing out a long, steady stream of white smoke.

He stared in awe at his innocent Princess as she puffed the joint and passed it back like a pro. "God damn," he sighed, his hand finding the back of her head and forcing her lips to his. After a heated kiss, he pulled back. "We'll light one of these up after I shoot my load all over Daddy's campaign finance forms." He took the final puff and dropped the smoldering end of the rolling paper into an ashtray on the table.

It was one hit, barely enough to give her a buzz, but Courtney couldn't help feeling euphoric. She knew it wasn't all because of the drug. In fact, she knew it probably had very little to do with the substance itself. Her rush came from knowing that she was in the arms of a man her father hated, doing something that would give him a heart attack. It came from wondering if this is how the little girl who gets caught with her hand in the cookie jar always felt? Knowing that she was doing something that her parents would deem wrong, but not giving a fucking flip if she got caught.

Courtney unzipped Dave's pants and left a trail of kisses along his chin as she slung one leg over his and lowered herself onto him. Her father would shit frisbees. And Courtney honestly didn't care.


	7. Caught in the Act

**My Chemical Romance**

The walls of her bedroom threatened to close in as Courtney gasped for air. Her parents were supposed to be gone. They were supposed to be at a fundraiser for a friend. They were supposed to be out of town for the weekend.

Her mother wasn't supposed to be feeling ill. Her father wasn't supposed to take pity on his wife and cancel their plans. They weren't supposed to be there. They weren't supposed to be in the same state when Dave showed up.

But he was already on his way when Courtney called and told him not to come. And he wouldn't be deterred. He told her that he would get a hotel room and she could meet him. All she had to do was tell her parents that she was spending the weekend with a friend. And he refused to listen when she told him that her parents knew she didn't have friends in the area. Brooke was in Los Angeles for the summer, and Kelly was working at a camp for disabled kids in Iowa. How in the hell was she supposed to get away when her parents knew every person that she did?

The phone rang at eight thirty and she answered it with trembling fingers. "Hello?"

"Princess," Dave's gravelly voice met her ears with the sweet hint of a smile. "I just pulled into town and I have reservations at the Renaissance by the Harbor. Meet me there at nine," he instructed.

Courtney took a deep breath and swallowed. She couldn't. There was no way they would let her out. She couldn't think of a convincing lie. "I can't," she stated flatly.

"You're twenty-one years old, dammit," Dave huffed. "You can leave the house on your fucking own." He loved that she was sweet and innocent, but it was getting a little too exhausting for Dave's taste. When he heard her sniffle, he smacked the steering wheel and laid into the horn as a black Explorer cut him off. "If you're not there by ten, I'm coming to get you," he told her, flipping the phone shut.

Courtney stared at the phone dumbly. What was she supposed to do? Standing, she flipped through her closet and chose a knee-length skirt and sweater from her closet. Spritzing some of Dave's favorite perfume behind her ears and into her cleavage, she grabbed her purse and dabbed her wet eyes. She could lie. It wouldn't be so hard.

Her mother was on the couch, covered in a blanket and sipping soup from a large mug when she descended the stairs. "How are you feeling, Mom?" she asked sweetly, as though she could somehow throw the woman off with manners.

Alissa turned her eyes toward her daughter and smiled weakly. "My stomach isn't so happy with me, Sweetheart," she answered, taking a moment to look over her daughter's attire. "Where are you headed so late?"

Courtney took a deep breath and fished her keys from her purse. "A friend from school called. We're going to have dinner at Red Maple and catch up on each other's summers," she explained with an ease she didn't know she possessed.

Alissa looked skeptical, but nodded. "Is this friend male or female?" she asked, raising her mug to her lips again as she sipped properly.

Courtney could feel her cheeks flush. "Mom," she whined at the intrusive comment, trying her best to maintain all sense of normalcy. "It's just dinner with a friend."

Alissa's eyebrow shot up, an amused grin on her lips. She might have been quiet and reserved, but there was nothing she liked more than teasing Courtney when she had a crush. It didn't happen often, but her daughter was so transparent when she interested in someone. As long as the person was acceptable by family standards, Alissa was more than happy to urge her daughter into the dating pool. "I was going to tell you," she started.

But Courtney held up a hand. She knew that look, and any conversation that started with 'I was going to tell you' would involve Alissa teling her about some young man that Courtney didn't know, and had no interest in. Her mother thought she was so clever, but Alissa Lane was nothing short of predictable.

Shaking her daughter's dismissive hand off with a shrug, Alissa hit the mute button on the old movie she was watching and nodded for her daughter to sit. "I talked to Elaine Orton today," she smiled as though she had a delicious secret. "She said that Randy is interning with ABC news here in Washington this summer," she giggled. "You remember Randy, don't you?"

Courtney remembered Randy Orton. She remembered him as the tall, skinny, awkwardly gangly guy she had spent six years of boarding school avoiding. He was nice enough, but he wasn't a part of her circle. Or any circle really. He was always shy when they were paired together for homework assignments. Sometimes he was funny. But he was a nerd. And she highly doubted he had changed in four years.

"He's hoping to get a paying job with ABC after he graduates next spring. Now, you know that your father and I don't really care for ABC, but Randy's a good kid. He could do great things for that station," Alissa went on as though Courtney had shown some interest in the topic of conversation. "He comes from such a good family."

Courtney nodded deftly and stood, checking her watch. "I've really got to get going, Mom. I'll be home late."

Alissa nodded and returned her eyes to her movie, but only after reminding Courtney to keep her cell phone turned on and to call if she needed anything.

She rolled her eyes and pulled the front door open, colliding squarely with Michael Cole. "Sorry, Cole," she muttered under her breath as he bent to pick up the purse that she had dropped.

"Not a problem, Courtney," he assured her, noticing that the young woman's sweater was unbuttoned further than normal. "You got a hot date or what?"

Coutney blushed and shook her head. "Just meeting a friend for dinner," she lied before shouldering her purse again. "Dad's in his office."

Nodding, Michael stepped past her and then stopped, smirking. "Ya know who I ran into at the gas station? Dave Batista," he said, watching her face for any sign of recognition.

Courtney raised an eyebrow, her political training in full effect as she tilted her head. "Who?" she asked blankly.

But Michael continued to smirk. "Be careful, Court," he advised. "If your father finds out."

But Courtney just shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she feigned stupidity and turned toward her car, driving to the hotel as fast as she possibly could.

* * *

"That's it, Princess," Dave coaxed, pulling Courtney's sleep-smashed hair from her face as her lips tended to his morning wood. "God, you're so good at that," he sighed, his head falling back against the headboard. When she raised a hand to cup his balls like he had taught her, he thought he would squeal like a child. "Shit, Princess," he managed to hiss through clenched teeth. 

There was nothing Dave loved more than a good blowjob, and Courtney was the best he'd ever had. The fact that she was willing to do whatever he asked her to do made it so much better than all those other bitches who thought they knew how to please a man already. There was nothing he loved more than the sight of Courtney's plump lips wrapped around his hard cock.

So it stood to reason that there was nothing he hated more than said image being interrupted. Especially by the pounding of angry fists on his hotel door and the irate sound of Sean Lane's voice demanding that his daughter present herself.

Dave was sure he'd never seen anyone jump as high, or as quickly as Courtney did in that moment. He didn't know what lie she had used to get out of the house to see him. And he really hadn't cared when she stepped over the threshold of his room the night before. All he had cared about was getting her onto his bed, naked, and making up for the three weeks they had missed together. He still didn't care, as he watched her rake her fingers through her hair and frantically try to pull her little sweater of her head.

Standing from the bed, Dave tossed a tee shirt to his girlfriend and pointed to the bathroom, grabbing her arm and kissing her before patting her ass and watching her leave the room. Dressed only in his boxer shorts, Dave moved toward the door and glared at the man on the other side.

"Can I help you, Senator?"

Sean Lane's face was red, his cheeks puffed as he studied the nearly-naked man in front of him. "Where the hell is my daughter?" His eyes searched the room, but Dave folded his arms across his chest and said nothing. "I know that she is here, and God only knows what you're doing to her."

The smirk that danced across Dave's lips was not intentional, but in leiu of the anger on the older man's face, he couldn't really help it. "I don't know what you're insinuating, but I've never so much as spoken to your daughter, Mr. Lane. I don't know you think she would be here with me now."

"You think I'm a fool, don't you? That I wouldn't know? That I don't have eyes and ears everywhere? Watching my daughter? Making sure that vultures like you don't get to her, don't make her pawns in this life that I have chosen?" He rested his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed. "My daughter is not part of my campaign, Mr. Batista. She is of no value to you."

Dave held up a hand, the words angering him beyond any façade he was interested in keeping up. He knew that Courtney would be angry if he acknowledged their relationship, but he really didn't care. Not with her father hurling accusations of his intentions. "No value?" he seethed, taking a step closer to the man opposite him. "Mr. Lane, if you truly believe that the only reason someone would find interest in your daughter is to get to you, then you don't know her at all."

"And I suppose you think you do?" Sean Lane was not about to continue an angry discussion with this scavenger from the hall way where he could be overheard. "I don't know what you thought you were doing with my daughter, or where you've hidden her now, but let me assure you of this, Mr. Batista. It is over. You will not see Courtney, talk to her, or so much as think about her from this moment forward. Is that clear?"

For a fleeting moment, Dave thought of slamming the door in the senator's face. The thought that followed was to drag Courtney out of the bathroom and have her finish what she had started before her father arrived. Part of him wanted to show Sean Lane exactly what he was doing with his precious little girl behind closed doors. But Dave merely took a breath and squared his shoulders. "If I'm not mistaken, your daughter is an adult, Mr. Lane. What she chooses to do, and who she chooses to do it with, are none of your concern."

But Sean smirked and shook his head. It was clear that he thought this repulsive news man would never understand common sense. "My family is my concern, Mr. Batista. I know that you have some how gotten this idea that I'm some sort of horrible monster, and that Courtney will tell you all sorts of horrible things about me so that you can broadcast them to your liberal viewers, but I love my little girl."

He was interrupted by the creaking of the bathroom door, and the tear-stained face of his little girl. Without a second thought, Sean brushed past Dave and moved to wrap his arms around the distraught child in the bathroom doorway. "Don't worry, Corabeth," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "We'll go straight to the hospital and then the police station. Whatever he did to you? He'll pay."

Courtney raised her eyes and met her father's, shaking her head. "He didn't do anything to me, Daddy," she insisted, her voice soft and low. "We did things," she bit her lip and looked at him with the experienced eyes of a Daddy's girl. "Do things," she corrected. "I know you're not going to like this, and I should have told you sooner, but Dave's my boyfriend. We've been seeing each other for a couple of months now."

Swelling with pride, Dave moved back to the bed and sank to the mattress, one leg still firmly planted on the floor. "Three months next Tuesday," he corrected, grinning like an idiot when Courtney smiled in his direction.

Sean stepped away from his daughter, as though she had just informed him she was a leper. "Do you have any idea who this man is, Corabeth?" he asked, his finger thrusting in Dave's direction.

With a nod, Courtney looked from her boyfriend to her father. "I do," she insisted. "Far better than you know who he is," she added, fighting like hell not to back down. It wasn't that she didn't believe in what she was saying, but she had never stood up to her father before. It was harder than she ever could have imagined.

Dave watched as Courtney stood off against her father, neither saying anything to the other. He wondered if Sean could tell that Courtney's lips were swollen, and slightly red in the corners from being stretched around his erection. He wondered if the senator could tell that his daughter was constantly shifting her weight, her shoulders stiffening with each movement as she fought against the numbness that always accompanied a night in his bed. He wondered if the older man had any inclination that the way she pleaded with him to understand her relationship wasn't all that different from the way she pleaded with Dave to make her cum.

Sean glared at Dave and wrapped his arm around Courtney's shoulder. "She's impressionable. Cearly, you've used your manipulation to brain wash her. She's only a child," he spat. "Your practically a pedophile."

Dave chuckled and shrugged. "Barely legal is still legal," he stated, knowing that he would get a rise from the statement. At the moment, he didn't care. Courtney was defending their relationship to her overbearing father. He'd never been forced to meet any woman's parents, especially in his underwear, but he really didn't care at the moment. Hers was just fun to torture.

Courtney pursed her lips and stepped away from her father, her eyes narrowed at Dave in warning. "Daddy, I love you," she insisted, taking a step to her left, positioning herself between her father and her man. "Just because I love Dave doesn't mean I love you any less."

Sean's mouth gaped open. He hated the man on the bed with a passion. He had twisted everything that Sean had said when they met the first time, making him sound like some sort of narrow-minded twit. He was a liberal with every intention of ruining Sean's re-election bid. And he had a reputation as a womanizer and a partier. There was nothing about him that was acceptable. And the daughter he had always believed was so brilliant seemmeed completely snowed by the reality of this man.

"I've had enough of this nonsense," Sean shook his head and extended a hand. "We have a staff meeting at noon, Courtney. Come on."

Courtney glanced at the clock on the wall and then stepped back toward Dave, lowering herself to his knee. When she felt his arm around her waist, she nodded toward the door. "I'll be there at noon," she assured him.

Without another word, Courtney watched as her father stepped out of the room and then wrenched herself from Dave's grasp as his fingers traveled up her tee shirt to cup her bare breast. "Don't," she hissed, heading back into the bathroom.

"What?" Dave watched, perplexed. Hadn't she just told her father ab out them? Hadn't she said she loved him? Now he wasn't allowed to touch her. "Princess," he whined as he knocked lightly on the door.

When she opened it, her hands were on her hips, her face determined. "Understand this, Dave. I don't like hurting my father. I don't like disappointing him or upsetting him. In fact, until I met you, I would bend over backwards to make sure that I didn't do anything that made him unhappy." Raking her fingers through her hair, she rolled her eyes. "Just because I chose you over him, doesn't mean this is easy for me.

"I have told myself, since day one with you, that it was stupid and dangerous and ridiculously doomed to end tragically. I never wanted to like you, let alone fall in love with you." Tilting her head to the side, she considered him, "And it just occurred to me that I have never told you that before. Ever. And that I just ruined my relationship with my father for a man who is going to get bored with me before my senior year starts." Turning her back, she leaned her forehead against the wall and slowly, gently banged her head a couple of times. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Dave grabbed Courtney by the waist and carried her out of the bathroom. "Nothing is wrong with you." Covering her body with his, his kissed the hollow of her throat and then met her eyes with a deep, longing gaze. "I love you, Courtney. I have loved you from the minute I saw you in the kitchen at your parents' house. You make me do things, feel things, that I have never considered doing and feeling. You fuck me up." He smiled when she did and kissed the corners of her lips. "Even if it's just you and me, we're gonna be okay. I promise."


	8. Trash

**My Chemical Romance**

**A/N: Wow - long time, no update, huh? Well, I'll admit that my seething dislike of Batista caused me to pump the brakes on this story for a little while. But seeing he and Randy buildin' up this new feud on Monday nights kind of put me back in the right frame of mind again. I don't know how long it's going to take me to finish this story - if that ever happens. But I'm gonna make a go of it. If you're still reading, even after more than a year of updating, thank you. If you're new to the story, thanks for checking it out. And, as always, I hope you Enjoy!**

* * *

"Are you sure I look okay?"

Dave wanted to roll his eyes as he turned toward Courtney. He wanted to tell her that she looked exactly the same as she did when he assured her that she looked okay three minutes ago. But when he turned his head, he couldn't fight the smile. She didn't look exactly as she had. Or, if she did, he didn't recognize it as the same. Every time he looked at her, it felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

"You look beautiful," he nodded, his eyes traveling from her vamped face to the rhinestone collar she was sporting around her elegant neck. From there, he let his gaze drift to the dangerously low "V" neck of her slinky red mini-dress and down her toned, bare legs. The matching stilettos that adorned her feet, and showed off her pedicured toes, only made her seem that much more exotic. "Good enough to eat," he smiled, grabbing her waist as they approached the back entrance of "Trash," a new nightclub that a friend of his was opening in New York's East Village.

Courtney swallowed her nerves as she stepped through the door and smiled at the people who waved to Dave and shook his hand. She was sure they'd never gone anywhere that Dave didn't know at least seventy-five percent of the patrons, and sometimes it worried her. They were trying to keep their relationship on the down low, at least she was. He, it seemed, didn't care if everyone knew about them now that her father did.

It had been the cause of more than one argument, the fact that she refused to bring him to her parents house for dinner, even though they knew about the relationship. She tried to rationally explain that knowing about it didn't equal approving of it, but Dave didn't seem to grasp the concept, or he just didn't care.

Leading her toward the direction of the VIP, Dave smirked to himself as women he used to charm out of places like this waved and winked and stared at him through thick lashes. No doubt they still believed that tonight could be their night with him. B.C., they would have been right. B.C., it didn't matter who he arrived with, he would leave with the woman who promised him the best time once they got home. B.C., he would have never given a second thought to the fact that they were brushing up against him as he passed. B.C. Before Courtney.

Waitresses dressed in camo pants or denim miniskirts flitted around the room, PDA's gripped in their hands as they took orders and electronically sent them to the kitchen. Their tank tops were strategically torn, emblazoned with the restaurant's name across their ample chests. Waiters in torn jeans delivered meals to the tables, black tee shirts pulled tightly across their chiseled pecs.

The sexual energy was evident as couples sat closely in their booths or grinded against each other on the dance floor. Dave smiled to himself when he caught a glimpse of Courtney's expression. Her mouth gaped slightly, her eyes wide at the scenery. He knew that she was fairly sheltered, spending her high school years in a strict private school, and her college years studying to follow in her father's footsteps. The eager anticipation with which she approached each of the dates Dave planned for them pleased him to no end.

Ushering her into the private booth he had arranged, Dave slid his body close to hers and rested his arm around the back of her seat. She felt a twinge of jealousy, and a slight rush of inferiority, until she turned her face and realized that Dave didn't even seem to notice the women at the table beside him. He didn't seem to care that they were closer to his age, these other women, or that they seemed much more comfortable in tiny dresses like hers than she was. Not with his finger running slowly over her exposed collarbone, his eyes fixed intently on hers, drawing that blush that only he could elicit.

When they were cuddled in a booth near the back of the restaurant, he wrapped an arm around her slim waist and kissed the top of her blond hair. "What do you think?" he asked.

"This is weird," she finally managed to say through a forced smile that felt uncomfortable on her face. "I've never been to a place like this."

Dave nodded and sipped his drink with his free hand before casting his gaze around the room. Truth be told, he'd never been to a place quite like this, either. "Jeff doesn't do the usual," he chuckled.

Jeff Hardy had been a friend of Dave's since the producer had moved to New York. A young artist from the Village, Jeff was known for his multi-colored hair and poetically vague, acoustical songs, usually performed on a street corner for cash. His reputation and drawing power in an underground fight club paid his meager living expenses, and a generous donation from an anonymous donor provided him the chance to showcase his art at "Trash," the nightclub he had always dreamt of opening.

Courtney looked from the abstract murals that adorned the walls, large creatures with angular faces and grim expressions, animal-like figures in brightly-colored coats, and the occasional floor-to-ceiling pot leaf to separate the art. And enormous statue stood watch over the dance floor, and while she couldn't be sure, Courtney could have sworn it was made of aluminum foil. It was definitely different, but no one seemed to find it disturbing. What was even more shocking, Courtney found, was that she didn't, either.

Turning in Dave's arms, she rested her hand against his cheek and then slid it to the back of his neck and pulled him to her, tugging at his bottom lip with her teeth until he growled from somewhere low in his chest. She wasn't sure she would ever get used to a man like him showing interest in her conservative self.

"I'm guessing you like it," he smiled when she finally released him from the kiss and rested her head on his shoulder.

Courtney nodded and looked at the wine list on the table before them. "What are we drinking tonight?" she asked contentedly. Truth be told, their personalities and stations in life made their love anything but logical. But as he ran his fingers gently over her bare knee under the table, her heart pounded. _Fuck logic_, she thought.

They ate in relative silence, sharing light conversation and intimate gazes over the best bar food either had ever tasted. When the waitress took their empty plates, Dave turned in the booth and slid one arm over the leather upholstery while the other hand found her soft, inner thigh. "When are you going to dance with me?"

Courtney looked to the dance floor, shaking her head and blushing when her eyes fell on one couple nearly dry-humping in the corner. "You know I'm not much of a dancer," she whispered, lowering her eyes. Ballroom dancing at the huge parties her parents threw was one thing, but grinding against her lover in public was not something she was entirely comfortable with.

"Big Dave," a jovial voice sounded as a sinewy shadow fell over the table.

Reaching one hand over the table, Dave invited the punk rock owner of Trash to join them. "Great place, Jeff," he complimented.

Nodding, Jeff Hardy motioned for a waitress and tucked his hands into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. While the tailored lines of his pin-striped vest lent a perfect touch of professionalism to the business man, his Trash tee shirt and purple hair signified that he was still as young and adventurous as any of the restaurant's patrons. "Jenny, can you bring Dave a water? On a platter?" he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Courtney watched the young woman run off, turning her head back to the men at her side just in time to see Dave shaking Jeff's hand again. She couldn't be sure, but she thought they had passed something between them. When Jeff shot her a glance, she smiled as though she hadn't seen a thing. "The food was fantastic," she complimented.

He grinned proudly at the compliment. "Well, thank you very much, Ms. Lane," he winked, his Southern drawl causing a blush in her cherubic cheeks.

"Call her Courtney," Dave instructed, his hand finding her thigh under the table once more.

Jenny returned with a champagne flute of water on a thin silver platter. Leaving it on the table, she flounced off again, giggling when Jeff patted her ass in thanks for her service. He lifted the water to his lips and nonchalantly slid the platter to Dave's place at the table. He then pulled a Bic ink pen from the pocket of his vest and slid it along the same path.

Courtney leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and casually rubbing the back of her neck as she glanced around the room, wondering if anyone else was watching the strange exchange. When her gaze fell back to the men at her table, she noted that a small razor blade had been taped to the end of the pen Jeff had offered.

Dave ran the blade through a small pile of snow white powder, forming two perfect lines down the length of the platter. Dipping his head, he snorted one and sniffed deeply, running his finger under nose. Inclining his head to the side, he smiled at his girlfriend through foggy eyes. "That's some good shit, Jeffro," he sighed, offering a hand to his friend.

Some of her friends had experimented with drugs, but Courtney never had much of a desire. Especially not for anything too hard. Mostly because she liked being clear-headed, knowing what was going on around her at all times. Also, because she knew her father would't hesitate to lock her in a closet and feed her through a tiny hole, if he was feeling generous, if he ever found out that she had touched an illegal substance.

"I'm gonna leave y'all to your evening. We'll get together later this week, Dave," he shook hands with Dave again and kissed the back of Courtney's hand before disappearing into the crowd.

Dave leaned in and kissed her, his lips sucking hungrily on hers for a brief moment before he rested his finger on the side of his nose and lowered his face again. As Courtney watched the line of powder disappear, she blinked to shake the overwhelming feeling that was rising in her gut.

She wasn't attracted to junkies. She had no use for guys who would rather snort their future up their noses than do anything credible or positive with their lives. She didn't want to be with an addict. But this was Dave. She loved him. So what if he liked to party? So what if he recreationaly indulged himself every once in awhile? She'd seen him smoke pot. Hell, she'd smoked it with him. He had a great career, and until this moment, she'd never even seen him do anything she'd consider dangerous. Jumping to the conclusion that he had a problem was just silly, she scolded herself as she let her eyes drift over his handsome face once again.

Sniffing the air deeply, he opened his mouth wide and shook his head like a dog after a rain storm. With another grunt, he cleared his throat and let out a laugh. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and pulling her from the booth.

Courtney laughed, too, as he hugged her waist and sniffed her hair. She could feel his heart pounding against her shoulder as they waded into the center of the crowded dance floor. Though she wasn't a fan of the practice, she couldn't deny the fact that Dave had looked incredibly hot snorting those lines. And the fact that he was now clawing at her like a hungry animal as they swayed to the heavy drum beat of the music was only sending her temperature higher.

Dave ran his hands down her satin-covered back and over the swell of her ass. She groaned and pressed her breasts against his granite pecs, her fingers raking over his silk dress shirt. The outline of his abs rippled under her fingers as she shimmied toward the floor, smiling up at him through innocent eyes.

With a laugh and a groan, she ran her hands over his thighs, back up his torso, and linked her fingers around his neck. The perpetual smile that seemed to be plastered on Dave's lips only grew when she straddled his thigh and bent her knees, riding his linen-clad leg as though it were something else entirely. Writhing and moving in time with the music, she moaned and threw her head back, shaking her blond hair as she let out a laugh.

Bending, he attached his lips to her neck and sucked greedily, feeling the effects of drugs racing through his veins. As a substance abuse counselor, his mother had spent the last 40 years teaching her three children that there was no activity in life that could be made better by any foreign substance. She constantly lectured that the consequences would always outweigh the benefits. But Dave just didn't care.

No one would ever convince him that the feeling he got, the charge that immediately followed a long line of pure blow, wasn't one of the greatest sensations in the world. It was nothing more than a recreational enhancement when he partied. And he found it hard to condemn his behavior while Courtney's head was thrown back, her sensual moans were soft, but audible, and her heat was radiating against his thigh.

His friends would think he was crazy. Courtney herself would probably shy away from the truth in these early stages of their relationship. But Dave had known, from the moment she had entered the restaurant for their first date, that he would spend the rest of his life with this woman. And he had every intention of experiencing her more fully than he had anything else in his life.


	9. Introducing Randy Orton

**My Chemical Romance**

For most of his life, Dave had wondered about his place in the world. He was the middle child of seven, so getting lost in the crowd was easy. A series of high school events led him to a fascination with what he liked to call the 'injustice system.' As a freshman at Georgetown University, he chose the path of broadcast journalism, and for the first time, he felt like he knew his calling.

In those early years, he learned quickly the tenacity and determination that a career in political news would require. He had never minded putting in the hours, sleeping in his office, or making phone calls in circles to get the interview that he needed. After only six months as a segment producer, his work was garnering attention from industry insiders and political figures, which only seemed to intensify the demands for his time.

In the past, he had never complained. He thrived on the stress and immediacy of his job. But in the past, he'd never had a girlfriend like Courtney. While he'd always loved having a woman on his arm, or in his bed, he'd never had a problem pushing them to the side when there was work to be done. Now he couldn't go a few hours without talking to her, texting her, or seeing her.

While he was busy with work, her school schedule didn't help matters any. When he was available for lunch, she was in class. When he worked until two in the morning, she was already in bed, prepping for an early class the next morning. Being squeezed in on the weekends wasn't something he saw himself getting used to any time in the near future.

Casting a glance at the clock on his desk, Dave let out a sigh. He had planned on wrapping up his work early and heading home. He would have plenty of time to grab a shower, and head over to Courtney's for a couple of hours before she kicked him out for the night. Of course, that had been five hours ago. Before logistics for his latest segment were blown all to hell.

Dave shook his head and pushed back from the desk. Another night of calling Courtney from his own empty bed, hearing her mumble a good night that she wouldn't remember in the morning, and then trying to unwind by himself. God, he didn't want to spend the night alone. Not tonight.

Locking his office for the night, Dave tried to come up with contingency plan. Surely he could find something to do with himself. He had existed for thirty-five years without her in his life. The trouble was that he couldn't seem to remember any of them. The last six months with Courtney had erased everything before her from his brain. He had never considered himself a commitment kind of guy, but he honestly couldn't imagine himself with anyone else. Ever.

Maybe he could just swing by her apartment. Even if she was too tired to do anything, he could talk her into sleeping next to him. That would be better than nothing. Any part of her was better than none of her, after all. Grabbing the cell phone from his pocket, fully intent on calling to tell her to be ready for him when he arrived, Dave became vaguely aware of the clanking sound coming from the office at the end of the hall.

Victoria's office. With a smirk, Dave drew closer to the door as he approached the elevator. He knew the sound well. In fact, he'd caused the sound of her desk banging against the wall on more than one occasion during their late night research parties back in the day. Though he really didn't care that he was no longer her extracurricular partner, Dave couldn't help the curiosity that piqued in his chest as he passed the closed door and heard the aggressive grunt of her partner and the hushed moan of his colleague.

Leaning against the wall, Dave waited patiently. He knew Victoria's pattern, and he couldn't resist the urge to fuck with whatever punk ass newbie she was breaking in this time. While he waited, he flipped his phone open and sent a quick text message to his girlfriend. **Wake up. I miss u.**

It took her less than fifteen seconds to respond. **8:00 class. Tired.**

**Sleep at my place, **was his reply.

Again, she answered quickly. **We never sleep at your place. ;)**

**So?**

The clicking of Victoria's office door caused Dave to slide his phone back into his pocket. With a wry grin, he watched the statuesque young man shoot a wink into the room and then shut the door softly. "Hey," Dave greeted easily.

But the cool exterior that he'd used to rattle so many before didn't seem to affect the significantly younger man at all. He stood as tall as Dave, with similar dark hair and features, though he lacked nearly seventy-five pounds of Dave's bulk. Stuffing his shirt tails into his pants, the man extended a hand. "Dave Batista," he smiled wide, his sparkling white teeth visible as he rested one large hand on his trim waist.

Dave accepted the hand and nodded his head slightly, unsure of what he thought of this kid. He was used to average men cowering in intimidation at the mere sight of his six foot, six inch, three hundred pound frame of muscle. When they didn't, it threw the otherwise collected man off base just a little bit. But only just a little bit. "Have we met?" he asked, one hand plunging into his pocket to withdraw his phone once again.

The young man's blue eyes shimmered as he shook his head, completely undeterred by this hulking man's detached demeanor. "Not yet. We will tomorrow," he answered confidently, both hands on his hips now as he postured against his counterpart. "We have a nine o'clock meeting."

Dave checked the appointments on his calendar for the following day. "Randy Orton," he chuckled to himself and shook his head at the irony of it all.

Randy licked his lips and watched the curiosity pass over Dave's face. "Yes, sir. I'm interviewing for the assistant position," he filled in the blanks.

Would Courtney think it was nearly as funny as Dave did that the kid interviewing to be his assistant was banging his former booty call against her desk in the middle of the night? Would she find it half as entertaining as he did that this kid seemed to be nothing more than a slightly younger version of himself? "Well, Randy," he started when the ringing of his telephone interrupted him. "Excuse me just a second," he held up a finger and smiled at the ID screen flashing against his fingers. "Hey, Princess."

"Brooke's having loud, annoying sex," Courtney's whiny, sleep-deprived voice filled his ear.

Nodding, Dave rested his hand on his hip and forgot about the young man watching him intently. "So?" he asked, feigning apathy.

There was a huff on the other end of the phone and he could hear the creak of her boxed springs under her weight as she either stood or shifted against her bed. That thought alone was enough to make him turn away from Randy and look toward the floor. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he couldn't think about his beautiful, naked girlfriend with some dude staring at him. "So it's making me horny and now I wanna have loud, annoying sex."

"Oh really?" Dave asked, his voice edging with curiosity just a bit. The exhibitionist in him couldn't help jumping just a bit at the thought of having this very conversation at this very moment.

Randy cleared his throat, catching Dave's attention and nodding toward the elevator. Together, the men stepped into the lift and Dave nodded his affirmation as Randy's finger hovered over the ground floor button.

Courtney just moaned in Dave's ear again. "Come get me, Lover," she pleaded, the pout forming on the edge of her words. "I need you, David," she purred.

"It's a long drive to my house, Court," he reminded her, winking in Randy's direction as the young man averted his eyes and shook his head in what he was sure the older man misconstrued for disbelief in his willingness to have such a conversation in front of a complete stranger. "Oh yeah?" he responded to Courtney's assertion that she could get him just as ready as she was during the drive to his house. "What makes you think I'm not ready now?"

In reality, Randy wasn't disbelieving that Dave Batista was willing to have such a personal conversation in front of him. He was disbelieving that _the _Courtney Lane, chaste daughter of right-wing conservative Senator Sean Lane, would ever give someone with Dave Batista's reputation the time of day. He hadn't believed it when Victoria mentioned it earlier in the evening, and he sure as he hell didn't believe it now.

As the elevator reached the ground floor, Dave studied Randy's profile while assuring Courtney that he would be by to pick her up in less than ten minutes. He was as cool, calm, and collected as anyone Dave had ever seen, even after being caught, practically red-handed, in a post-coital state. By his prospective boss. In his possible new work place. Even while introducing himself to a man as intimidating in stature as any Dave was sure Randy had ever met in their business. And even while listening to half of a semi-illicit conversation in the close quarters of an elevator. His composure never rattled. As far as Dave Batista was concerned, Randy Orton was nothing short of intriguing. If he was totally honest, the kid was damn impressive.

The pair stepped into the lobby of the building and proceeded toward the door, each fishing their car keys from their pockets, simultaneously. Once standing in the crisp air of the impending New York autumn, Dave stopped short and considered the young man one more time. "Hey, Orton," he broke the easy silence. When Randy's blue eyes met Dave's brown orbs, Dave shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head. "Don't worry about comin' in for that interview tomorrow."

Randy's heart sank. He knew that coming back to the office with Victoria was a risky move. But he'd been buzzed, and she'd been awfully convincing. It wasn't like Dave Batista was the only producer in town looking for an assistant. And it wasn't like his parents wouldn't be thrilled if he took a position with a less liberal station anyway. If only he hadn't wanted, and needed, this one so badly.

"Just show up ready to work on Monday morning, okay?" Dave added, chuckling when Randy's lips twitched into the beginning hint of an arrogant grin. He didn't need to interview the kid to know that they were cut from the same mold. To know that they would make a formidable duo. To know that he was the only person Dave would meet who could stand toe-to-toe and shoulder-to-should with him. Besides, letting him off the hook for the interview meant that Dave didn't have to be in the office until after ten in the morning. Which meant that he could explore Courtney's naked body until sunrise. There was no downside, as far as he was concerned.

But Dave Batista wasn't the only one patting himself on the back as he slid into the drivers' seat of his car. Even as Randy pushed his key into his ignition, he was dialing his phone. When the voice on the other end answered, he smirked at his reflection in the rear view mirror. "Cole, it's Randy Orton." When Sean Lane's right-hand man cursed the young journalist for calling so late, Randy couldn't help chuckling. "Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, man," he spoke sarcastically. "Just tell the senator that it's done, okay? I'm in." He was greeted with a mumble from the sleeping man on the other end of the phone. "And make sure you remind him he owes me one."


End file.
